


The Great Black Distance

by cakeisnotpie



Series: Sexuality Series [9]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Alternative Sexuality, Asexuality, BUT STILL A BADASS, Bisexuality, Chaos, Clint's a tire fire, Diary/Journal, Exile, Fluid Sexuality, Hard to explain, Historical Fantasy, Homosexuality, IN SPACE!, Kyudo, M/M, Martial Arts, Mysticism, Omnisexuality, Oral History, Outer Space, Planets, Pseudo-History, Sex Drugs and Rock and Roll, Sexuality, Space Battles, Space Opera, Spaceships, Violence, if he could only get his life together, pseudo-historical fiction, sex is a good thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2020-04-08 12:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 42
Words: 125,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19107019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cakeisnotpie/pseuds/cakeisnotpie
Summary: What's a guy to do when he's been exiled from his homeworld for doing the right thing, especially when everyone else in the universe believes he's a badass who kicks ass and will tap any ass?  Clint Barton had better figure it out soon or he may find himself caught up in a story bigger than his, dragged into an origin story that takes him in a completely different direction than he ever dreamed of, one that just might land him in the lap of a man who can accept him as he is.A space opera told as a fictionalized account of Clint Barton's personal logs in the latter half of the 29th century.  Space battles, corporate espionage, questionable motives, bad decisions, and sex ... so much sex ... may just lead Clint to find where he fits in a crazy, fast-changing universe.This is part of my sexuality series: unlike the others which are all one-shots, in this story, I'm playing at a societal level, wondering just what a world where sex has only two rules (consent and age), spirituality is deep, fighting skills are legendary, and peace is the first option might look like. Wish me luck.





	1. Author's Foreword

**Author's Note:**

> To say I've had this bit of world-building in my head for years is an understatement; I probably first came up with the notion of a paradoxical world like Danu when I was a teenager (and I'm a fandom old fart for those who don't know). That it finally came full circle in this story that has levels upon levels of POV and time, well, I didn't see it coming. My muse has been especially moody lately and very stingy with her grace, so I'm taking what she's doling out and being happy that I'm writing words, words, words, whatever they may be. 
> 
> The story is posited as being told by a historical fiction writer in the 34th century who has taken personal logs from one Clinton Francis Barton and turned them into the first person POV tale. Inserted between chapters are "historical documents" she's uncovered to offer background information. Along the way, I've completely ignored the fact that language would change and pretty much kept so many things the same as today just because it's easier to write it that way. The willing suspension of disbelief, folks, okay? 
> 
> I hope the culture of Danu becomes clear as we move forward in this story; I'm going to keep plugging away as fast as my Muse will deign to let me. I do know the plot structure, who's who, and when we're going to get Phil Coulson onboard this wild ride, plus where it's going to end up. 
> 
> Fair warning; there will be some bigotry, racism and pretty nasty things said to Clint along the way, but not by the main characters. As a Danuean, he's going to be subject to some terrible stereotyping and prejudices of others. But I'm also going to be playing with the concept of a completely sexually free society and what that might look like, so expect some experimentation along the way.

While researching for my book, _The House of M_ , knee deep in details about the fall of Howard Stark’s empire and the formation of SI Corporation, I requested and received a large download of pre-war era corrupted data from the Supreme Headquarters for Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Directorate archives. Like so many of my sunshine requests, footdragging, and long waits meant the beam came far later in the writing process than I’d planned. Decoding, cleaning, and de-encrypting the tangled mess from damaged computers and scrambled programs left behind by the Kree destruction was a daunting job; I focused on the bytes that contained information I was looking for, leaving the rest for a later perusal.

 

As life is wont to do, years passed before I could return to the files. At loose ends after finishing the screenplay for _Children’s Crusade_ , I culled through the vast amount of minutia of purchase orders, fleet records, and household codes with little thought to finding anything of interest. Imagine then my surprise when I stumbled upon a section of records from Tony Stark’s fledgling attempt at digital intelligence, the Joint Active Residual Variance Intelligence System. Advanced for its time, J.A.R.V.I.S. has long been acknowledged as the first truly aware computer, the forefather for the S.O.C.R.A.T.E.S. program we all used today.  A personal project by Stark, J.A.R.V.I.S. was his private system; he, along with a handful of close friends and associates, were the only ones with access. To date, just a very select and highly edited number of files from that system have been made available for study.  

 

Yet, here I was with what looked like a series of personal journal entries from one Clinton Francis Barton, a man hitherto an almost complete mystery.  Aside from his name appearing on Stark’s payroll off and on during the latter half of the 29th Century, he appears only once in any substantive mention in all the histories of SI, just three sentences devoted his presence during the test firing of the original A.R.C. ship on 10.2899.023.  

 

_The second attempt proved more successful; Barton managed to lift seventeen meters and hover for 2.3 seconds before the engine cut out.  Mr. Stark specifically requested that a note be added to the file about Barton’s special negotiation skills, saying, ‘Clint could seduce a nut to leave its bolts.’  In further tests, Barton continued to show increased time and distance for each …_

 

As I began to read, I expected to find the day-to-day life of a pilot; for the journal to be on J.A.R.V.I.S. meant Barton must have been within Stark’s inner circle.  My hope was for a contemporary view of life during those formative years and, maybe, a never before seen glimpse of Tony Stark. What I found was much more than that; contained in the first person logs were the thoughts of a man who, by some twist of fate, found himself in the very center of a changing universe.  The entries were filled with familiar names like Steven Rogers and Virginia Potts and Bruce Banner and James Buchanan Barnes; not a person on the fringes of history, Barton had lived and loved and fought alongside some of the great heroes of that generation.

 

But that wasn’t all.  Spread out before me was something even rarer;  Barton was an oxymoron, a refugee from a planet that has become little more than legend, a place that some believe never even existed despite the evidence to the contrary.

 

Danu, the triune world.

 

In the centuries that have passed since the Battle of the Line,  the tale of Danuean courage has taken its place in the pantheon of myths.  Like the Spartans of Original Prime, the sacrifice of Danu looms large even today. What else are we to make of the story of such selflessness, how they held against overwhelming odds down to the last man, woman, and child, buying time for others to mount a counterattack against the full might of the Kree forces?  A whole race, wiped out, planet destroyed in a last ditch effort to save everyone else … it’s almost too much to comprehend. So we have turned it into fiction, softened the edges, spun it into hyperbole, the planet, the people, and the action relegated to the vid screen and endless reiterations in literature.

 

We can make up our own truths of who they were because the Danueans were so very insular in nature, content to thrive on their world rather than scatter to others, the cataclysm of their abrupt end leaving nothing behind.  The history of the unique culture burned as ships rained down fire and explosions scorched the very ground itself. Scholars have spent lifetimes searching for the small scraps of information, almost all second-hand accounts, trying in vain to discover the what lies behind the stories that grew more and more fantastical as the centuries went by.  Visionaries and mystics. Warriors and strategists. Diplomats and Pacifists. Paradoxes juxtaposed upon each other, peaceful utopia with an unbeatable military and devout believers.

 

But in Clint Barton’s journal, we have a first-hand account of what it meant to be Danuean, both the good and bad.  In his own words, he lays bare the contradictions at work in his culture, the paths that cross then cross again, as he likes to say.  Rampant sexism and ethnic bigotry from people of other races; xenophobia against off-worlders from Danueans. Rigid rules that couldn’t be violated but open relationships without any boundaries.  A system that both celebrated individual thought but also excommunicated those who didn’t toe the line.

 

I was entranced by Clint’s life, not just for the historical and cultural value, but because of Clint’s unique voice, his sense of humor and sheer cussed determination in the face of overwhelming odds stacked against him.  The more I read, the more I needed to know; I began researching any reference to Danu and reading up on the places Clint visited. I came to like Clint Barton, to think of how he’d laugh at the exaggerations, to wonder how he’d feel about being all but erased from history. It’s a pitfall of writers, to fall in love with a character, become friends and want to have a drink with them, and I’d certainly say that was true for Clint.  

 

There was no doubt I had to tell Clint’s story.  I’ve relied upon the journals for the basic brush strokes of the plot, using as many of Clint’s own words as I could, but much of what follows is a fictionalization of events from a narrative told in shorthand and after the fact.  Keeping it in first person allowed me to mimic that voice I’d come to know so well; it’s my hope I’ve done him justice after such a long time of silence. Other documents I relegated to inter-chapter and footnotes to provide external details; this is Clint’s story and it’s his time in the limelight.

 

In a universe where worlds are regressing and hard-line politicians are finding more and more support, it’s important to shine a light on where we’ve been and how hard people fought to move us forward.  Hindsight, of course, is much easier now that we can see from a distance and, as the old adage goes, those who don’t look back are doomed to repeat the same mistakes. Danuean ideas were progressive for their time and, unfortunately, are still controversial today.  Clint Barton would say that’s a damn shame, that a little love never hurt anybody.

 

I think he’s right.

 

Wanda Maximoff

 

 _Wanda Maximoff is the author of over twenty books of historical fiction including the Alban Award-Winning_ Children’s Crusade _and the Queen’s Sigil Best_ House of M. _Three of her novels have been made into movies and EBO is currently filming season one of_ The Celestial Madonna Cycle _.  She lives on Transia with her husband, sons, two dogs, and three cats._


	2. Inter-chapter:  On Colonizing New Worlds

EXCERPTS FROM JEAN-PAUL BEAUBIER’S  _ TO INFINITY AND BEYOND: THE UNIVERSAL MIGRATION OF HUMANS FROM 2450 TO 3000 _ . 

 

Leaving Earth was not an easy proposition; despite the desire of many marginalized groups to take advantage of the United Earth Government’s Outward Bound Population Promise, the logistics of colonizing a new world proved insurmountable for many.  The application process and the reams of paperwork could be daunting, and the costs of mounting an exodus flight were beyond the means of most who turned their eyes to the stars. The number of settlers needed to apply for a government grant meant hiring transport and a ship needed a crew and fuel.  Then there were the necessary supplies to start a colony including tools and building materials, seeds to grow plants and food to survive those first seasons, along with technology and machinery to terraform. Just the medical needs alone could run upwards of $50 million for a small group of 100 or fewer …

 

Planet sharing became popular as alternative financing;  divvying up continents and splitting the costs put an off-world expedition within reach of more people.  If it made for strange bedfellows, new worlds usually had enough space to create more than one ideal society within clearly delineated boundaries.  Considering the 2589 passage of the New Cultural Norms act on Earth, disagreements didn’t matter as much when hundreds of miles separated the parties.  The number of joint ventures rose quickly as the push to alleviate crowding was consumed into the Pure Earth movement; charitable foundations that offered support for specific groups were championed and funded by celebrities and the wealthy.  The most famous was Rainbow Planetside; over seventeen different colonization attempts can be directly attributed to their sexuality awareness campaign …

 

For all the images of happy colonists, most expeditions ended in failure.  Half of all attempts never left Earth; the fatality rate of those who managed space flight was close to forty percent.  If they did make landfall, five years later, nine in ten would be abandoned. As Perry Jones argued so eloquently, the push outward to the stars was class and cultural warfare at its most insidious; holding out the hope of a better life, the governing mentalities of the U.E.G. encouraged millions into the hostile black of space with little to no help.  That some managed to not just survive but to thrive stands as a testament to the indomitable will of humankind ...


	3. It's Full of Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's got a line on a job that might make him enough money to get off this space rock called a planet ... assuming he makes it out alive.

Perhaps the great error is believing we’re alone,

That the others have come and gone—a momentary blip—

When all along, space might be choc-full of traffic,

Bursting at the seams with energy we neither feel

Nor see, flush against us, living, dying, deciding,

Setting solid feet down on planets everywhere,

Bowing to the great stars that command, pitching stones

At whatever are their moons. They live wondering

If they are the only ones, knowing only the wish to know,

And the great black distance they—we—flicker in.

  


“My God, It’s Full of Stars” by Tracy K. Smith

 

 

 

NEW AMSTERDAM, VARLDJORD

04.2884.206, Solarian Calendar

  


I should have listened to the voice in my head and skipped out the minute I saw a local dealer selling in one of the front booths.  Start a colony and the first business that pops up will be prostitutes followed closely by the drug trade; hell, every place I’ve been, there’s a psychotropic indigenous plant and plenty of idiots who thought, “hey, let’s smoke/inject/swallow this and see what happens.” Humans can be so damn predictable even out here in the black.  Not that I can say I blame ‘em considering what life is like on some of these piss-poor excuses for a planet; if I had to spend all day scrabbling in the dirt and sweating for next to nothing in way of a crop, I’d probably be stoned out of my head most of the time. It’s just that I miss it sometimes, the sweet smoke of the braziers in the temple and the smooth bite of leaf tucked between my gums; the shit on sale in this backwater was nowhere near as good and was illegal to boot.

 

Still, I needed the money, so I didn’t have a choice.  There was a time when I could have walked away, wouldn’t even have given this guy a second look. But beggars can’t be choosers, and I was already busking on the street for loose change.  A job, a real honest-to-gods paying job, might get me the rest of what I needed for a ticket off this rock. Sure, anyone who said their name was Big Darcus was probably going to want me to do something illegal but, hey, when has that stopped me?  And in this place, well, the security force was just as likely to be involved in the crime as solve it. The owners of the restaurant below my tiny room pay three different groups including the nearby precinct for protection, just to be sure. To think I used to bitch about those assholes who tagged buildings with their clan sigils. Never knew how much I’d miss old Jangan who walked the beat near my building.  He didn’t like me and he was far too by-the-book, but he was honest.

 

Big Darcus had contacted me through the Creaddans; after I navigated the cancelation of their holosystem feed, they told a couple of friends, one of whom was the Madame of a brothel near the port. She needed help getting a better percentage with her silent partner; it’s ironic, really, that dropping the name of my birth planet can make even a hardened criminal listen to reason.  Can also get just about anyone in bed with me, but, hey that’s a whole other set of problems I’m learning to deal with.

 

Anyway, I got the call that this little kingpin wannabe had a hard on to have a Danuean at the table when he negotiated a business deal. Some small beans territorial dispute, but he was willing to pay 200 credits for the honor. Never have been that picky even before, and I certainly couldn’t afford to be now.

 

So, there I was, walking into the smoky interior of a trendy club complete with pounding techno remixes of songs that were popular ten years ago in the inner circle.  A big bar in the middle of the main level, curving stairs down to a dance floor, all of them lined with spectrum shifting lights that pulsed to the beat. Felt like I needed to have on a neon jumpsuit and a half-shaved head of hair to fit in with the patrons hanging out this early in the evening.  Gaggles of working types, probably just off of shift down at the port, mixed with younger people, all keeping the servers hopping back and forth with beers and colored drinks and glasses of amber whiskey.

 

I didn’t see Big Darcus and he was pretty damn hard to miss.  A good six inches taller than just about anyone else, super skinny with long arms and legs, all gangly and odd angles.  He was born on a world with gravity shifts, the kind of place where bodies change after a couple of generations. Too many colonies settled without enough details about the floating rock they were going to call home.  Native flora and fauna, deadly soil, ionic storms … humans are the craziest batch of beings in the universe if you ask me, ready to hurl themselves into death and danger just because. Of course, we haven’t run across any other races out here yet, but the math says there has to be, so my point stands.  

 

Sauntering over to the bar, I scanned the choice of seats. A group of office workers gathered in a clump, their jackets off and sleeves rolled up, complaining about filling out forms.  Four guys, clearly ship’s crew looking for a good time, already had a collection of empty bottles on the countertop. Next to them, a man slumped on a stool, nursing a drink, shaggy brown curls falling over his face.  

 

I took the empty seat next to him, ordered the cheapest brand I could think of, thought longingly of a cold Carson’s Bitters, then leaned against the rail to wait. Took some time to check out the guy in the mirror; might be stuck on this rock but that doesn’t mean I can’t have fun, right? Cute in a quiet way, the pinch of hunger and lean times at the corner of his eyes, a weight of sadness on his shoulders.  Guy had a story, that’s for sure, and, damn if I didn’t find that appealing. Trouble magnet, that’s me; give me a pair of haunted eyes and a cute ass and I’m definitely interested. Add in a little bad boy thing, and, yeah, I’m there with bells on.

 

I didn’t get a chance to do more than look because after, two sips of the crappy beer, the trouble started.

 

“Hey,” one of the crew guys said, giving me the once over. “You looking for some fun?  Bet you are, aren’t you? That’s what those tattoos mean, don’t they?”

 

Honestly, I really don’t start shit. I promise. Bad things just happen around me, okay?  There I was, in pants and a short-sleeved shirt, nothing revealing, not even a smudge of fuck-me eyeliner, and this guy was hitting on me.  It’s like they can smell it on me or something. Mess with Clint, yeah, he hasn’t had a problem in, oh, a cycle or two. Time to upend his life.

 

“Not interested.”  First thing I learned after leaving Danu is to ignore as much of the bullshit as possible.  Still working on doing that.

 

“You’re from that place, the planet of the sluts.”  The guy kept talking, pushing closer into my personal space. “Yeah, I know you are. Frank, look at this.  Remember that time we worked on that governor's ship, the one that stopped on that planet. They had tattoos just like this.”

 

“Still not interested.” I can be good, especially when there’s money on the line. Just had to wait it out until the mob boss showed up.

 

“I heard you people are always interested.”  He leaned in and made a point of staring at my crotch. “Man, woman, neither, both, animals … don’t even have to pay for it, you like it.”

 

“Animals can’t consent, so that’s a no go.”  I put some steel in my voice. “Last time. Not. Interested.”  

 

I started to turn but he caught my wrist and tugged me towards him. “I get it, playing hard to get; I kinda like it. Make me work for it. Come on, babe, I’ll show you a good time.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you,”  The curly haired guy said, his voice low and even.    

 

“Not your problem.”  The man glared. “Mind your own business.”

 

“Yeah, I normally would, but I really just want to get quietly drunk, so I’m going to help you out and avoid a scene.”  His chocolate brown eyes had intelligence lurking behind them. “See that band just above his clan tattoo? The arrows?”

 

Obnoxious Guy glanced down and moved his fingers for a better look at the artwork on my left arm.  

 

“That’s a sharpshooter designation, a zaiteki level of kyūdō; means he never misses what he aims at.  The one above it, the swirls of black and purple? A Flidais scroll is the highest honor in the Danu Planetary Force. They only give that to someone who’s risked their lives to save others.”  A half-smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

 

“Kreter,” one of the other men said, “come on, let’s get a table, okay?  Avvat knows a good whore house with a two-for-one special.”

 

“Is it Daphonise? ‘Cause they had an outbreak of syphilis two weeks ago and they’re trying to make up for lost profit,” I told them.  “Try The Green Nettle. Well run and affordable; Madame Puol runs a tight ship.”

 

“Damn it, it’s not fair.  I was stuck on the ship while Julas got his brain sucked out his dick by some Danuean girl. He still talks about how good it was.”  Kreter let go with a sigh. “Bet there’s no one there half as hot as this guy.”

 

His friends pulled Kreter away. “Sorry,” said the one. “Been in space too long; I think we’ve all forgotten how to be around people.”

 

I understood that;  spent three whole months on a freighter, thought I might make a living that way, but pretty soon realized therein lay madness.  I’m not cut out for tight bunks, the same four people, and nothing but cold and dark. Captain kindly dumped me off on a backwater even smaller than this one, told me to find another job.  

 

“Didn’t mean to butt in,” the curly haired guy said as they left. “Pretty sure you could handle yourself.”

 

“No problem.”  I gave him my famous ‘ain’t I cute’ smile. “Sensei always said avoidance should be the first option. Usually don’t take that bit of advice; I’m a jump head first into things kind of guy.” I took a sip of my drink and plunged in. “So, what brings you to a place like this?”

 

He chuckled, a lovely rich sound that made my libido stir;  been in a dry spell for a while. When most of the people I met have the kind of notions about sex that Kreter did, well, let’s just say it’s not all that appealing.  Don’t really want to be a novelty fuck to write home about.

 

“I supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t think they’re going to show.” He swirled the liquid in his glass. “Surprised to see a Danuean; never heard of one living off-planet.”

 

Exhaustion shadowed his words, recognizable and very familiar.  

 

“That’s me, unique and unusual.”  One way to put it. “I’m surprised to find someone who knows what Kyūdō is.”

 

“I studied at Oghma University for a term.” There was that half-smile again. “Took up breath prayer meditation and learned a lot about your culture.”

 

Very few people got invited to come on planet;  if this guy was telling the truth, he was probably brilliant. Me, well, I wasn’t smart enough to even think about more than a basic education; they’d put me on the skills track pretty early on and that was that.  

 

“Knew a guy who liked to brag he made it to the Cromlech of Meath. He also said he was the direct descendant of Dagda too, so there’s that.”  I caught the movement in the mirror as Big Darcus walked into the place, striding over to one of the enclosed booths in the far corner. My shitty luck was holding.

 

“The Master used to talk about it, that place of perfect serenity; he claimed a good orgasm was the best way to …”

 

“You Barton?” Big beefy hands with shoulders wider than the average doorway, Darcus’ guy loomed over us. “He’s ready for you.”

 

“Give me a minute.” I held up a finger to stall the thug. “Any chance you’ll be hanging around?  This shouldn’t take long …”

 

“Now.”  A step forward and he was practically breathing down my neck. “He doesn’t wait.”

 

“Not going anywhere.”  Curly haired cutie offered his hand.  “I’m Bruce.”

 

“Clint.”  I slipped my fingers across his palm and gave a quick shake. “Be right back.”

 

Tempting fate, I know, considering my track record, but living in a constant state of anxiety was getting old not to mention taxing my energy.  Turned out, all those lessons about looking on the bright side might have had a point; never going to be all positive sunshine and rainbows, but I’ve got to get out of this rut of self-blame or … well, all stress and no fun makes Clint a drunken slob who doesn’t leave the room.

 

“Have a seat.”  Big Darcus waved to the bench beside him. “Ronnie, check him first.”  

 

The goon found my little disrupter in my pocket; three models old, it barely held a charge and was more useful to make toast than tase anyone.  He also got the knife in my belt but missed the separate dart pocket and the dirk in the small of my back. From a quick scan, I counted six men arrayed around Big Darcus including the two suits at another table; I had four plans to take them all out by the time I slid into the booth.

 

“So, here’s the deal,” Darcus began. “You’re not to talk, so don’t get any notions about your so-called negotiating skills.  I don’t need ‘em; got this planned and I always get what I want. I’ll pay you the 200 when we’re finished …”

 

“100 up front, 100 when you’re done.”  I sat back and laid an arm along the top of the seat. “That was the deal.”

 

“Now listen here you jumped-up little shit, I don’t care where you’re from, I’m in charge.” Darcus decided a staring contest would quail me; I slipped into my resting face and began mentally counting. Got all the way to fifty-two before he blinked.

 

“100 now or I walk.”  

 

He shifted, elbows flapping indignantly.  “Do you know who I am?”

 

“I do.”  I let the edge of my lip curl up and he blanched. “I know all about you, Darryl Cussonial, and I know you want to be taken seriously by your competitors, thus why I’m here. Pay me and you can tell everyone who’ll listen that the deal is backed by a Danuean.”

 

He thought about it for a few more heartbeats before he took out his wallet and passed me the cash.

 

“Better damn well be worth it,” he grumbled.  

 

The nod he sent towards his associates made his intention plain; no way was he planning on forking over the rest of the money. Too bad; he’d find out what happened when someone tried to stiff me on a legitimate fee. There was a reason Danuean mediation was in such high demand; we put all our resources behind any agreement arrived by participating parties.  At least when the negotiation occurred on world; really wasn’t any precedence for this situation since I was the only one messing with something this penny ante. Darcus didn’t know that, though, and I wasn’t about to tell him.

 

“It’s her,” someone said.  

 

The woman striding towards us was so ordinary I wouldn’t look twice if I passed her on the street.  Simple cotton work pants, a wrinkled raw linen suit and a vest tied neatly around her waist, she was average in everything. Average height, average weight, average looks. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin. The only hint of something else was the way patrons parted before her, moving out of her path without conscious thought.  

 

“Darryl.”  She stopped at the table, scanning all the players in what I was realizing wasn’t a simple transaction.  Her fingers flexed, corner of her eyes crinkled, and she let out a breath, shoulders dropping infinitesimally.  “Shall we?”

 

Darcus went rigid, bowstring of a body vibrating with tension.  “I was expecting your boss.”

 

“Well, you got me instead.” She barely turned her head and a server appeared. “Make me a screwdriver and use the good stuff.”  

 

She pinned me with her gaze as she folded herself onto the bench; I felt a tingle start at the back of my neck and travel down my spine, my early warning system going into overdrive.

 

“I told him I’d only deal with him directly.”  Darcus’ cheeks flushed. “You don’t have the …”

“I am fully empowered to make any and all decision necessary to deal with a peon like you, Darryl.”  She took her drink from the waitress, flicked a glance at Darcus then came back to me. “Not that hard to accept your surrender of all territories and responsibilities.”

 

“Not going to happen.”  Rate Darcus was going, he was working himself right out of fear and into anger in record time.  Exactly what the woman wanted, get him to stop thinking and react. Good thing I’d gotten half up front. “I have control of the port and the shipping route to Thorlsberg; he’s doesn’t have a choice. Deal or I’ll starve him out of business.”

 

One eyebrow rose; she leaned back and mirrored my poise.  Her lips quirked and she measured the width of my shoulders with her eyes.

 

“I think you’ll find that’s not true any more.  Seems the Rogue Gallery are business people at heart; make a better offer and they were ready to switch allegiances.”  

 

Whoever she was, she’d done her prep work; Darcus had already lost, he just didn’t know it yet. So, why, then, was I suddenly very uncomfortable?  

 

She must have sensed something at the same time;  eyes narrowed, slid down my arm and over my tattoos, then bounced back up to my face.  She knew what they meant; loud and clear I read the unspoken question and it wasn’t who or why but what.  What did I know she didn’t?

 

Deliberately breaking contact, I let my gaze go out of focus and stilled. Three deep breaths and I slipped into munen musō, letting my thoughts drift off and illusions fade.  Funny thing about getting kicked off world -- for all the struggle I had with my spiritual technique on Danu, it was easier now. No clue why; maybe it was all the time with nothing to do but think.

 

I tuned out Darcus nattering on, posturing about being in control; wasn’t long before I picked out the first batch, three of them on the dance floor, clustered near one of the stages.  Four more were near the entrance, another two on the far side of the club, all of the off-work crowd by Bruce, and, damn it, Darcus’ man who’d walked me over. All of them armed and waiting.  This wasn’t a meeting … it was a trap.

 

My fingers tapped a quick count; she blinked and sipped her drink.

 

“This is tiresome,” she said. “Enough. You’re done.”

 

“Don’t you dare tell me what to do!” Darcus flattened his hands on the table and pushed it towards her, standing up. “I’m in charge around …”

 

The thug closed around the hilt of his gun and I felt the wave of intent that circled the room.  Before he got the barrel free from the holster, I had four darts between my fingers and had activated the sleeper serum in the tips. Perfectly legal and above-board, the mix was the same shit they sold in those self-defense pens at the pharmacy.  Short of a raging bulloserous, the effects would knock a human on his ass for at least an hour. Not too hard to mix in a little something extra if I needed more kick. Gotta make do with what’s at hand, right?

 

He never pulled it out, slumping down in his seat with a dart in his carotid artery.  Three more collapsed in puddles on the dance floor, and I dove out of the seat, knocking over the nearest table and taking cover behind it as the first bullets flew our way.   Good old fashioned metal slugs ripped into the wood veneer and chipped away at the plexiglass center; it wasn’t going to last more than one round.

 

People screamed and began running; the smartest got out of the blast radius, sheltering anyway they could. I kept as low as I could, dodging chairs as I made my way to another table closer to the bar.  

 

“You go left.” She was right beside me, hunkered down by my shoulder. “I’ve got the ones on the right.”  

 

Popping up, she aimed a fist and shot narrow laser blasts from what looked like a bracelet; each hit their marks but drew attention our way. I like my ass the way it is and got out of the way of the return volley; I’m not usually so trusting, but she hadn’t shot me yet, plus my left is my dominant hand, so it made sense to focus that direction.  

 

“Watch out!”  

 

I spun to find a blaster aimed my way from one of the guys at the bar.  Glass shattered as Bruce hit him over the head with a beer bottle, distracting him long enough for me to get three darts off, taking him and his buddies out of the equation.  

 

“Get behind the bar,” I shouted to Bruce. “Stay …”

 

The body slammed into me, knocking me off my feet and landing on top of me.  One very angry woman growled at me, her gun barrel pressed against my temple; she’d been on the far side of the room when I’d scoped them out.

 

“Whoever you are, you just made a big mistake.”

 

Thing about threatening situations, after I’d been in a few, I found I couldn’t get as worked up about the certain chance of death pronouncement. Compared to running into a building rigged to explode or getting shot at by my own unit, the guys who were supposed to be my friends, well, one rent-a-thug in podunkville didn’t measure up.  Already been declared all but physically dead, so what was a bullet in the brain but a self-fulfilling prophecy?

 

“Actually, this is a minor hiccup,” I told her. “I’ve fucked up much worse than this and lived to talk about it.”

 

Before she could pull the trigger, I jammed a dart through my pants and into her thigh.  Eyes widening in surprise, she tried to curse but only a jangle of consonants came out of her mouth.  I pushed her to the side as she went boneless, thought about grabbing the weapon for all of two heartbeats, then left it on the floor. Plausible deniability goes a long way with small town constabulary; honest, officer, I had no clue who he was! See, all I had was my little darts and a paring knife …

 

A barrage that could only come from an automatic strafed the room above head height.  I made myself as flat as possible but kept crawling towards the opening in the bar that was so tantalizingly close.  

 

“All right, listen up. Stay perfectly still and nobody has to get hurt.  I’ve got a little business to conduct and then you’ll be on your way.”

 

And that would be the other big muckety-muck in this place’s dark underbelly. Actually, wasn’t really hidden, the whole criminal element, more like right out in the light of day, so maybe not the best choice of metaphor, but, hey, bad guys have a hierarchy and this piece of shit was the pinnacle. She looked like the kind of mom who walked her kids to school every day and had warm cookies waiting when they got home … not that I’d know anything about that considering the whole dad was an off-world asshole who killed my mom … but I’ve watched enough vid shows to get the stereotype.  Hell, she even had on designer pants and a killer set of matching pink nails.

 

“Double tap, please, Boots.  I don’t want a repeat of last time,” she ordered.  

 

Boots, it seemed, was maybe fourteen with bright neon orange hair and a pair of shitkicker black boots from which she probably got her name.  With a feral smile and wild eyes, she stalked across the room, stepping over bodies of the living, injured, and dead without hesitation. At each of Darcus’ men, she paused, sent two shots into their brains before moving on. In a matter of seconds, she’d be at the table where Darcus was staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling and then she’d be coming for me. Damn it all to hell and back, I was not going to be killed by someone wearing a freakin’ boy band t-shirt.

 

The wail of sirens sounded, distant but growing closer; the police weren’t going to make it in time.

 

A small movement caught my eye;  the brown-haired woman was two tables away, half-hidden behind a pillar.  She held up her arm, tapped her fancy laser bracelet thingy and held up four fingers.  I tapped my fingers five times for the number of darts I had left; with a jerk of my eyes, I let her know I’d take Boots.  It was practically suicide; between us, we could take on most of the assailants, but who knew how many were outside or still lurking in the club?  She raised an eyebrow as if she could read my thoughts and I wrinkled my nose her direction. Yes, she was right; they were most likely not going to leave any witnesses, civilian or not.  We had to take the chance.

 

Clunky footsteps and it was time to act.  A deep breath, extending awareness, and I rolled, dart sinking into my target before I had my knees under me and was springing upright. Without looking, three more darts sailed true and I tumbled behind the bar, almost colliding with Bruce.  I heard the zings of laser shots, poked my head up and watched more of the bad guys fall to the ground.

 

“What the fuck?”  Mob Mom literally stomped her foot. “Boots? Shirts? Rings? What is going …”  Her eyes widened as she felt the dart, fingers fumbling to pull it out. “Who did this?  I am not …”

 

“Wow, she’s a piece of work,” Bruce said, watching as she passed out, tilting over backward and hitting the floor with a thump. “You think there’s a Boxer and a Briefs?”

 

“Let’s hope there’s not a G-Strings.”  I grinned; something about a man with a sense of humor was really fucking hot. Too bad there wasn’t going to be some hot fucking tonight; I’d be lucky to not end up in a jail cell for the foreseeable future.  Even as I thought that, the first security officers flooded in the doorway. “Looks like I’m going to have to take a rain check.”

 

“Yeah, me too.”  Bruce grimaced. “Let’s hope they don’t have instant background checks around here or it might be a good long while.”

 

“Aw, seriously?” I raised my hands and waited patiently as one of the other patrons pointed my way. “Well, hell.”

  
  
  



	4. Inter-Chapter 2:  "Kiss Me High" Or "The Rose of Danu"

**“Kiss me High” or “The Rose of Danu”**

**Anonymous author**

**Sung to the tune of** [ **“Whiskey in a Jar”** ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlWTASnnft4)

 

Oh, one night on Danu and I met a girl 

A talker with rose red lips.

She took me to her bed and I

Never had a night like that

In all my life, I’ll never forget.

 

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.

 

She took me down and set me up

I came to see her way was best

Around and back, too many times,

She rode me ‘til my back was sore

And I didn’t know which end was up.

 

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.

 

Next day on Danu, I met a boy 

Full hung and ever ready.

He took me to his bed and I

Never had a night like that

In all my life, I’ll never forget.

 

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.

 

He tied me up and locked me down

I learned that his way was best

Yes, sir, no sir, please may I have more,

He fucked me ‘til my back was sore

And I didn’t know which end was up.

 

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.

 

Before I left Danu, I met a pair

Who taught and trained and fought

They took me to their home and I 

Never had a day like that 

In all my life, I’ll never forget.

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.

 

They kicked my ass and knocked me ‘round

Made me see their way was best

Hit me hard upside my head

They worked me ‘til my back was sore

And I didn’t know which end was up.

 

Rosey, oh, my Rosey oh.

Up and down and round we go

Cocks and whips and punches flow

Who knows what a Danuean knows

Kiss me high and kiss me low.


	5. Chapter 2:  Arrow and Target

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets a job offer and makes some friends. Some really, really, hot, good-looking friends who don't seem to mind the chaos that trails after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My muse is operating at impulse speed lately, so expect slower than average postings.

NEW AMSTERDAM, VARLDJORD

04.2884.207, Solarian Calendar

 

By the time they let me leave the station, it was well past noon and my stomach was rumbling.  All in all, they’d gone easy on me, far too focused on catching Big Darcus and the Mob Mom whose real name was Gertrude Plinston.  Went by the moniker of G.P. Queen, a terrible choice, but nobody asked me. Darcus tossed me under the bus first thing, said I’d been in on it with the brown-haired woman but one of his thugs rolled fast to avoid being shipped to a work planet and told the whole story. Both the Creaddans and Madame Puol backed me when I mentioned I’d worked for them and Hosea, my landlord, said I was a good tenant, so that left me on the ‘wrong place, wrong time’ list.  Also helped that my erstwhile partner, i.e. Nina Rittenhouse, had disappeared. She’d known where all the security cameras were and had avoided them, never giving them a view of her face. Probably looked completely different by now anyway. Made her a person of interest and me a bland nobody.

 

Still, better safe, as they say, so I kept my temper and answered all the questions even on the sixteenth go around.  Flirted with the rookie doing the paperwork -- he was cute in that “I like to shave my hair real close and bulk up to make up for my lack of creative thought” sort of way -- and got the number of a woman whose arms were more muscular than mine because hell yes to being held down and fucked hard. Nothing better to chase the cobwebs out of my brain than an old-fashioned session of who’s on top.  Did some meditating during the long spans of being left alone, enough to count for my daily training especially with all the unfamiliar noises for distractions.

 

I’d tucked the 100 credits in a hidden pocket on the inside of my shirt and the weight lifted my spirits as I opened the door to the little mom & pop restaurant.  The smell of the day’s special -- garlicky mussels and fried aubergines -- made my mouth water; I winked at the counter girl and gave her my order to go. Great thing about living upstairs from a hole-in-the-wall eatery; when I needed a shower, food, and sleep, I just had to swing by.  

 

“Heard you were mixed up in that mess down the way.”   Maricah, one of the owners, stuck her head out of the doorway to the galley style kitchen. “You hurt?”

 

Her ebony skin gleamed in the light that filtered through the window; she and her partner were good people. From the moment I first wandered in, they’d decided I didn’t eat enough and started been trying to fatten me up.  It’s a thing with them; they’re both large women and they worship food, like, seriously, eating and cooking are the things they love most in the galaxy. Maricah is the risk taker; some of her dishes are flat out amazing, the kind of food that wins awards, but some are, well, I’ll eat just about anything, but candied leeks in a beet reduction with liver pate? Not going to do it.

 

“No extra holes, I swear,” I told her.

 

“They really catch the Queen?”  Jaster asked as she put up an order in the pass-through slot.  “That woman’s a menace; I swear she doesn’t have an empathetic bone in her body.  Was like that when she was little too, torturing animals and bullying other kids.”

 

“Saw them take her away, cuffed and everything. Too many witnesses for her to walk away.”

 

“Yeah, they’ll be another ready to take her place.”  Maricah waved her spoon. “Those big ‘uns in the parliament don’t care about us out here.  One representative for three planets ain’t got a chance of being heard when the inner circle’s got four for each.  It’s rigged, I’m telling you.”

 

Before she could get started on one of her favorite rants, Jaster interrupted. “We don’t have time for that and he’s heard it already. Got to get that order ready; they’ll be here in fifteen.”  

 

“Alright, keep your panties on.” Maricah patted my hand. “I’ll put a side of the new beans and rice mix I’m working on. You tell me what you think after you’ve rested.”

 

I unlocked the door to my room; on the second floor, just above the kitchen, it was always warm even if it was a tiny square with a single bunk that served as both couch and sleeping space.  The hygiene stall was out-of-date but Hosea kept it in working order; the water pressure was solid and, if I bumped my elbows when I showered, I couldn’t really complain because it had an air dryer and I could disassociate as long as I wanted without the water turning icy.   Do a lot of my best thinking in the shower.

 

Place was so small I could reach the short section of the counter from just about everywhere, so I opened up the container and took the first mussel with my fingers, slurping it down as I started to shuck off my clothes.  The eggplant came with honey dipping sauce; I managed to tip up the bowl with rice and beans and get a good mouthfull. By then I was naked; I flicked the switch and stepped in for a quick wash. The whole water conservation thing on Danu meant I’d never had the luxury of a steady stream, just the off and on mandated timers that never lasted long enough to get all the soap off.  Here, water was everywhere, the whole damn planet was 80% liquid; I could reach out, grab a bite and never stop the flow.

 

Drying off, I started thinking, a good thing, really, but something I tend to overdo it.  Why plan for the future when I can worry it to death? Yep, that’s me, run by anxiety and self-doubt.  Like right now, wondering if I ought to move up my timetable to leave; I’d drawn attention to myself and that never ended well.  Grabbing a seat on a transport had been the idea; I was still short of that ticket. But I might be able to manage if I signed on to a freighter, do a little manual labor along the way.  Not like I hadn’t done it before; usually worked out except for that time the first mate thought ‘help out with loading and unloading’ meant ‘get on your knees and let me fuck your mouth.’  Not that I’m against a decent blow job, but it has to be decided up front and not just assumed … and no way in hell will I give in if they try and force the issue. Offer, give me a choice, and, sure, if I’m attracted I’d be more than willing, but consent is non-negotiable.

 

Not that any of it mattered until I knew where I was going.  Been bumming from one planet to the next ever since I left with my tail between my legs, no rhyme nor reason to where I went.  Stopped when the money ran out the moved on when people began looking sideways. Sensei always said the path I could see was not the path. Figured that was their way of telling me to be happy with the shitty lot I’d drawn; if I wanted to go a different direction from where they pointed me, that couldn’t be the way.  Lately, though, I was coming to the realization that fate or destiny or the Tao or whatever they called it had a thing against the easy and the obvious. Had to keep my eyes open for signs of which turns to take and not get stuck in the rut of what I assumed was right.

 

I’d just finished the last mussel and closed up the bowl with the empty shells when a knock sounded.  I wasn’t expecting anyone; hell, I never had any visitors at all.

 

“Hey,”  she brushed by me, a bag of food in one hand and holder of beer in the other.  “Maricah said you’d already stopped by; she sent some basbousa for dessert. Said it was a native fruit, a cross between a lime and a mango.”  

 

Took me a moment to recognize her.  Today she was sporting short blonde hair and her eyes were blue; the short skirt and sleeveless shirt were the kind waitresses wore at that big restaurant near the main government building.  Even her voice was different, more gravel and a hint of an accent. But it was the woman from the bar, no doubt about it.

 

“A hedel. Really sour.”  I closed the door since she was already inside. “Not bad if they’re ripe.”

 

She offered me a beer before scooting my leftovers aside to make room for her food.  Turning, she raked her eyes over me, from my wet hair to my bare feet, a smile spreading across her face.

 

“Nice towel … and everything else.”  

 

I almost bought it, the desire ladened words and the hot stare.  She was good, really good, but my self-worth is not caught up in having women fawn over me. I may be a needy bastard when it comes to praise and trust, but I know I’m damn sexy and can easily find someone to willingly sleep with me, so the honeypot trap doesn’t work.

 

“Thanks.”  I hung the towel on the bar in the unit and grabbed a pair of pants. “You can skip to plan B; complimenting my fighting skills is a better tact to take.”  

 

She cocked her head and I could see her recalibrate.  “It’s true, I take it, that you’re from Danu? Never been there, but I’ve heard a lot about it.”

 

“Try again.  Saw you scope out my tats last night.”  

 

“Okay, how about this?”  She dropped down on the edge of the bed and let her mask fall. “I need someone to watch my back and you’re the perfect candidate.”

 

“I’m listening.”  I pulled the food out of her bag and passed it over to her, unwrapping the yellow bars covered with powdered sugar.  “Go on.”

 

“200 credits a day plus expenses including travel costs.  Probably somewhere between ten and fourteen days total.” Using the chopsticks they’d provided, she delicately picked up a mussel and popped it in her mouth. “You won’t be on all the time, of course; lots of waiting where you’d be free to amuse yourself.”

 

Getting paid and footing the cost for my ticket out of here? Yeah, I wanted to hear more; I could end up with a nest egg and be on to my next stop ... **if** she was on the level which, considering the way my life was going, was fifty/fifty.

 

“Going rate for a body guard’s 100 a day but you could find someone to do it for 50.  Why me?” I took a bite of the dessert and coughed. “Wow, that’s … not good.”

 

She laughed as I wrapped the bar up and tossed it in the garbage unit.  “Well, for one, you’re willing to take risks like eating that. If I wanted someone to loom and lurk, yeah, they’re easy to find, but I need someone with a brain who thinks creatively when presented with problems.”

 

Translation: whatever she was into, it was complex and probably very dangerous.  “So I’m not just following you around, giving everyone a murder stare? I do have a really good glare that makes people piss themselves.”

 

“Let’s just say I could use someone with your aim;  kyūdō masters are pretty damn rare. They won’t see it coming.”  She showed her teeth when she grinned. “I like to have a surprise up my sleeve, especially after someone tried to sell me out once already.”

 

“Ah. Mafia Mom and her laundry list of helpers. The police were pretty sold on the theory she was after Darryl, but that was a lot of firepower for a dickless guy like him.”  I leaned against the counter. “So let’s say, hypothetically, I sign on for your dog and pony show. What exactly would I be letting myself in for?”

 

“A swap meet.  Pick up in one place, take it to another, swap, do it again.  Four stops total.”

 

The eggplant was dripping with honey as she took a bite; she licked a bead of the sticky stuff off one finger.  Could have been a come on but it wasn’t. Nothing remained of the seduction she’d tried at the beginning and my dick wasn’t interested either. My mind was a different story; a good mystery can be just as arousing as bumping body parts. That and a good snuggle.  Yep, I’m a cuddler. Give me a soft blanket, some body heat, and a vid to watch and that does it for me. Danger, a puzzle, and a sudden urge to hug her? I was in trouble.

 

“I’ll even pay your way back to this hell hole when we’re done if that’s what you want.”  She looked me up and down. “But I don’t think it is.”

 

I let that one go without answering, just shrugged.

 

“You have a good suit? If not, we’ll have to get you one.”  She pulled a digicard from her pocket and tossed it my way. I caught it with two fingers and flipped it over.  “Today’s pay’s already loaded; each day will add automatically post until we’re done. Probably should be careful in case the local forces are watching you; you can shake a tail, I imagine.  Meet me at the corner of Portgaten and Strand at 24:60 and be ready to ship out.”

 

“I haven’t agreed yet,” I reminded her as she packed away her food and stood up, the move putting her right in front of me.  I hadn’t noticed how petite she was until she had to tilt her head back to look up at me. “You seem pretty sure of yourself.”

 

“I am.”  She stroked her fingers down my tattoos and headed to the door. “You’re meant for more than this, Clint Barton, Haukkaselmä, Hachi-Dan, follower of Cernunnos, and you know it.  What is it they say? Life is a series of changes; best to go with the flow.”

 

“What the …” My tongue stumbled over the words. “I don’t even know your name.”  

 

“You can call me Natasha.”  She opened the door. “Get some sleep; you’ve got bags under your eyes.”  

 

I stood there for a good while after she was gone, mouth hanging open before I gave up and accepted that I was going if for no other reason than to find out what she was up to. And, just like that, a door opened; who was I to not walk through it?  

* * *

 

The meeting spot was in front of a mercantile store, the kind of catch-all place that sold everything from off-the-rack clothes to power generators.  One stop for all off-world needs. Most of it was low quality, shipped in bulk and made to break down quickly so people had to buy replacements often. The place was one of those chains owned by a big corporation -- had a branch on every known world, the sign in the window declared -- that made a ton of money for the owners by shortchanging the poor and the lower classes.  I was shocked when I saw the prices of everyday necessities in these smaller settlements especially when I checked the quality. I could buy a top of the line vid screen at home for what they charged for little ones with grainy pictures and shitty reception. Technology was the worst; locals could make clothes and food and other products, but these places had a monopoly on computers and power sources.  

 

Didn’t take nearly as long as I thought to circle from my room to where I’d stored my go bag and back around to the port.  I’d found a backstreet gun dealer on the first try and lucked upon a blaster that was only a couple models old and had been well taken care of by the previous owner; it was safely strapped into my thigh holster, my dart pocket refilled, knives in their sheaths, and taser fully charged.  But, best of all, I had my bow strapped inside my pack, the slender length of wood and polished metal grip nestled beside the rods and fletching of a dozen arrows.

 

The bow was the only thing I had left from my old life; take nothing with you, they’d told me as they shoved me out the door with just the clothes I was wearing, a ticket for a transit freight, and a digicard with 500 credits, added at the last second by the General herself. So when I got to my bunk on the ship, I was surprised to find a black bag with my name on it.  I’m secure enough to admit I teared up when I saw the gleam of my yumi, the one I’d made myself at the end of my apprenticeship. Damn thing was baptized in my blood and sweat, and I’d spent years perfecting the curve, carving the sigils into the grip. Gods bless Bobbi and Jen for smuggling it onboard; wish I knew if they’d gotten in trouble for saving it from the fire where it was supposed to go.  I didn’t feel whole without it, and, considering how much of me had been ripped away, I needed every anchor I could use to hold on.

 

“Oh, hey, hi.”  Bruce stopped walking when he saw me; he shuffled his backpack to the other shoulder and moved out of the flow of foot traffic. “I was thinking about you, about last night, wondering if you were okay and here you are.”  He glanced around then looked back at me. “I mean, not like in a creepy stalker way or anything, more like ‘met a hot guy in the middle of a bar fight’ sort of way.”

 

“I’m kind of hard to forget, and that was a hell of an introduction.”

 

“Yeah, it was …”  A crowd of five guys tried to pass, bumping Bruce and pushing him closer to me.  He shot a glance over his shoulder then shuffled further out of the way.

 

“Excuse me,” one of them said, crowding us both back against the window.  “Just need to …”

 

I grabbed his wrist, tightening my fingers and twisting. “Put it back and find another target.”  

 

The guy grunted but slipped Bruce’s wallet back into his pocket with a mumbled “Sorry.”

 

“I didn’t even notice.”  Bruce’s eyes darted after the retreating thief.  

 

“The bump was a giveaway; usually they don’t …”  

 

Light flashed on metal; I was already moving before my brain caught up. Trained muscles and an opened mind react before the eyes can register.  Never been good at turning off my thoughts when it came to transcendence, but fighting, now that was something I could do. I’d grabbed the hand with the knife and plowed my fist in his face before Bruce blinked.

 

“Get back,” I told him, spinning at the second guy coming from my left.

 

Then I was in the middle of it, punching and kicking, adrenaline rushing as attackers circled.  I knocked down one of them fast, but sidewalk was narrow and others pressed in, drawn by the action, wanting to see. People are idiots and do the stupidest things; one onlooker got an elbow in the face and cursed loudly.  Took an extra three blows to get the second one out of commission.

 

“Leave you alone for a few minutes and you’re right back in the middle of trouble,” Natasha said, surveying the groaning men, giving one a kick with the toe of her boot when he started to rise.  

 

“Honestly, I was minding my own business and talking to Bruce, I swear.”  I introduced them. “Natasha, this is Bruce. Bruce, Natasha. Look at us, making friends.”

 

“Nice to meet you, Bruce,”  Natasha offered her hand.

 

“Yes, me too, but, um, maybe we should move along,” Bruce suggested. “I really don’t want to spend the evening being questioned again.”

 

We turned down the alley and cut over to the next street, walking at a sedate pace to avoid drawing attention to ourselves, curving back around to where the docking bays held off-world transport.  Beside me, Bruce was vibrating, tension so tight he looked fit to burst. Natasha, on the other hand, was relaxed and smiling as if the world was turning her way.

 

“Did you ever meet up with your friend?” I asked Bruce.  

 

He shook his head. “No, she didn’t make it. I’m going on without her.”

 

“I’m  not a fan of being stood up.” Natasha turned us down the avenue between the ships where many had cargo ramps extended, freight being loaded, crew moving in and out.

 

“Oh, she’d never do that; something must have happened, waylaid her.  You know how unreliable things are out here; I bet I get a message from her in a day or two with a perfectly good explanation.”  

 

Bruce rubbed his hands on his pants, didn’t make eye contact, and paused far too long on a battered ship at the end of the row.  Lying, plain and simple. Worry was written on the pinched lines at the edges of his eyes, his anxiety ratcheting up as we continued walking.  I dropped back a step and put myself behind him; Natasha drifted a step in front, bracketing him between us.

 

“So true,” she agreed. “I was stranded once on Kodiak Gap for seven of their cycles; coldest I’ve ever been in my life.”

 

I opened my senses, dropped my focus, and slipped into the calm where potential coalesced into probable.  Bruce’s gaze sharpened; he was trying to watch all angles at once, afraid and on the edge. Too many people, too many open sight lines, too many directions an attack could come from. One thing I was quickly realized; we were being hunted, eyes tracking our progress. I hate being the mouse, especially when I don’t know why I’m being chased.

 

Funny thing about mice, though; no matter who the settlers were and what measures they took, the little creatures found their way to every damn world, hopping a ride and adapting to each new environment.  That’s why so many ships have a variation of a cat or some other animal that stalks smaller prey. Rodents, man, they’re survivors. Maybe it’s not so bad a position to be in.

 

“Dr. Banner!”  A blonde haired man stepped away from a stack of crates.  “Glad to see you made it. We’re just about ready to lift off if you want to go on inside and make yourself at home.”  

 

Damn, I hadn’t seen someone quite so delicious in forever.  Blue eyes to get lost in; an open and honest smile that filled his gorgeous face, cheekbones sharp enough to slice my finger on and a jawline that needed to be traced. Shoulders broad enough to hold my full weight, narrowing down to a perfect sized waist and muscular thighs made to bounce up and down on.  Good gods above, he was freaking sex on a stick that I wouldn’t mind licking until he melted.

 

“Thanks, Captain Rogers.”  Bruce guiltily glanced at us.  “I appreciate it.”

 

“You taking on passengers?”  Natasha shifted her weight to one hip and back came the sexual come-on she’d tried with me earlier.  “Just so happens we’re looking for a good ship ourselves. Where are you headed?”

 

“Proxima Centauri, specifically Johnsonwall and Riviera.”  The fucker blushed and my damn dick jumped to attention. “I’m Steve Rogers, captain of the Artful Dodger. She might not look like much, but she’s a fine machine who’ll get you where you’re going.  Happens to be we’ve got the space if you’re ready to head out and don’t mind sharing a room. Give you a deal, 100 credits each.”

 

“Picking up more strays, Stevie?”  

 

Fuck me sideways, but the guy who picked up a crate was just as damn sexy as the captain of this freighter.  Dark to Steve’s light, he had hair long enough to pull on, eyes I could drown in and a mouth made for sex. I forgot to breath when I saw his metal arm, an unusual prosthetic, much more high-tech than the usual flesh toned plasticine things veterans were fitted with.  When he turned to carry the freight into the ship, I got a glimpse at his ass and I made a noise deep in my throat.

 

“Paying the bills, Bucky, paying the bills,” Steve said. “Ignore my co-pilot; he’s a great guy, just a little grumpy when he’s planetside.”

 

“I heard that!” Bucky shouted from the hold. “If they’re coming, let’s get loaded; wanna avoid that Lemurian transport. Port authority will back everyone else up for the Ambassador’s liftoff.”

 

The giveaway was the shuffle of feet getting out of the way; I grabbed Bruce’s arm and yanked him forward, pushing him towards the ramp and using the crates to duck behind before the first bullet flew our way. Screams broke out as people scattered; I slung my pack off one shoulder, opened the pocket and then my fingers curled around my bow.  I popped it open, drew an arrow, and exhaled as everything settled.

 

Of everything that had changed in my life, this, the tension and breath before release, was the stability. This was home. What most never understood was that shooting wasn’t about hitting the target; it was realizing that the arrow already exists in the target.  

 

I fired, paused, fired again, then did it again as a line of attackers rushed us.  Backing up, I ended up next to the co-pilot; he glanced over as he pulled the trigger on his blaster.

 

“What the fuck? A freakin’ bow? What’s the universe coming to?”

 

“Bucky, what did you do?”  Rogers asked; he caught a silvery disc as it flew back to the computerized gauntlet on his right arm.

 

“Swear to God, it’s not me, Steve,” Bucky replied. “I was a dull boy all day.”

 

“Get off me!”  Bruce’s punch knocked one backward with enough force to send him careening into two others, knocking them all over like pins. “Don’t make me get angry!”

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed movement, someone sneaking up from the side. Two steps and I used the edge of the ramp to launch myself up, flip over the crates and bury my knife up to the hilt.  

 

“Whoa.” Bucky cast an appraising eye my way. “Okay, that was hot.”

 

“Flexible **and** experienced.”  I winked.

 

“Drop your weapons.”  The last one standing had his arm around Bruce’s neck and a blaster pointed at his spine. “This is between the good doctor and us; nobody else has to get hurt.  You can just walk away.”

 

“You? They’re after you?”  For once, I wasn’t the magnet for chaos?  Color me shocked. I’d assumed I was. “Bruce?”

 

“Sorry.”  He hung his head. “I didn’t think they’d find me so fast.”

 

“The doc and I are going to walk away and you …”  

 

I flicked a dart and caught the guy in the neck; he slid to the ground unconscious.

 

“These guys are Willinno Tech.”  Natasha nudged one then picked up his blaster. “Brand new ionic energy guns, not even on the market yet.”

 

“Buck, get the pre-flight started.”  Rogers strode to the remaining crates and lifted them with ease.

 

“200 credits each,” Natasha said. “Just drop us off at your first stop. You can say we forced you to take off.”

 

“Bruce too,” I added because, yeah, I wasn’t that bad at reading people. This guy needed help. When his startled eyes flicked up, I shrugged. “Really not conducive to meditation around these parts, is it?”

 

“I can’t …” he started to argue.

 

Steve stopped at the top of the ramp, setting the crates down. “Got no love lost for Willinno;  price for all three is 300, just like we agreed.” The sound of a whistle and running feet filtered their way. “But we have to go now; gather up those blasters and come onboard.”

 

Looked like I was leaving New Amsterdam with some new friends.  The way which was the way was not the way.

 

I’ve had worse days.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I promised lots of sex. There will be but, see, here's the thing. Clint's really picky about consent so it'll take a little time. Once they get that settled, lots of casual (and some not so casual) sex is on the way! 
> 
> speaking of not-so-casual, Phil is up next to add to our burgeoning crew ....
> 
> "The Way which is the Way is not the Way" is the opening line to the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu, one of the great mystical texts in Eastern religion. I'm going to be using more from the Tao as we go along since Danuean culture mixes it with Christianity and paganism for the base of their religion.


	6. Inter-Chapter 3: Excerpt from The History of Tattoo and the Art of Body Ink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from Fletcher, JoAnne, A History of Tattoo and the Art of Body Ink. Newconn and Mysis Publishers, 08.3127.

**Excerpt from Fletcher, JoAnne,** **_A History of Tattoo and the Art of Body Ink_ ** **.  Newconn and Mysis Publishers, 08.3127.**

 

… Tattoos became a default way to mark settlers after the disaster of Marrakesh Twelve. Because of the long and troubled history of numerical stenciling, designs were more often artistic in nature, allowed the incorporation of names or other means of identification, and served to separate the groups bound for a shared planet. For those who survived the dangerous undertaking, the original tattoos became a badge of honor; when tragedy struck, they aided in counting the dead …

 

… As colonies grew and thrived, many of those born planetside continued the tradition, and the designs, while keeping the flavor of the original, changed in light of the new realities of living on other worlds.  A perfect example is the Panheim Torc that began as three small lines along the upper left collar bone, one pink, one yellow, and one blue, with a name cipher integrated into the middle line. Today’s version is an intricate vine circle that runs around the base of the neck and is left open in the front; the colors are noticeably muted with grey and purple outlining the whole.  Panheim historian Jessop Martinex explains the most widely accepted interpretation of the design: “The lines were lengthened as generations passed, wound together to show the growing strength of our culture, but left open to allow room for new ideas. The original colors settled, matured, and the purple and grey represent an expansion of understanding of who we are as a people.” …

 

… Perhaps the most fascinating evolution of colony tattoos was said to have been the elaborate system of the lost planet Danu. The simple forearm band of the three groups became a series of stacked cuffs that denoted personal information including job category, military branch, religious sect, and clan membership. Advances in status were represented with smaller circles; details and colors were reserved for upper-levels and specializations. According to second-hand accounts, older Danueans often had full sleeves with elaborate scrollwork and patterns, especially those in the highest ranks of society.  

 

By all sources we have left about Danuean culture, tattoos were considered a sacred art form; no two were alike, even the earliest family denotations allowing for individualization.  Because of military service requirements, each inhabitant had a rank, but even those markings were customized ... Of note was the prohibition to ink off-worlders, a law that seems to rarely, if ever, have been broken.  In their series of letters published in late 2927, Lady Quarren Pase wrote of her brother’s attempt to find an artist while they were planetside for a negotiation.

 

"The first three places we stopped turned us down flat. The fourth shut the door in our faces.  By the sixth attempt, Nash was getting angry; I tried to talk him into having lunch at that lovely little outdoor cafe by the park, but he’d set his mind on this and wouldn’t be swayed.  He threatened the apprentice at the next address on the list. Before we’d walked a block after being firmly shown the exit, an attache from the diplomatic corp intercepted us and said she’d take care of things.  Nash was mollified by the woman’s promise; I had to smother a laugh at how well she managed my brother. To this day, I’m sure the small sun he has on his hip was done not by a Danuean tattoo artist but by someone from the cruise ship we’d booked to take us home.  I know I saw the same man in the parlor onboard."

 

Only a handful of images of Danuean tattoos remain, and most of those are drawings rather than digital.  Some come from candids taken in downtime during negotiations; a few more formal posed pictures exist. The largest grouping is in Proxima Centurai’s Museum of Arts, a private collection donated by the Hugh Logan Foundation, and include sketches recreated by Logan himself from his year of study at Oghma University …

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's postscript:

Of the tattoos mentioned in Barton's journal, most are commonplace. The Haukkaselma was a clan designation while the Hachi-Dan was a rank in the military, one attained frequently enough that Hugh Logan had multiple sketches of different iterations. Kyudo, his specific discipline of archery, wasn't as popular as other fighting styles, but it can be traced back to Original Prime as one of the fields of study that the Danueans took with them and is still found in small pockets of the universe today. According to Sensei Dahl Moazil, zaiteki is a life-long pursuit for most practitioners; it is rare to find even a master today who has reached the level.

The Flidais, the highest honor of the Danuean military, is written about by a number of contemporary military historians; in his book about the Battle of the Line, published only 30 years later, Danielle Richards mentions only four known cases when the honor was given prior to the posthumous ones bestowed to all thirty-two members of the First Attack Squadron. Until Barton's journal, all four recipients were unknown.

Of the Ex Filo, there are no records of that particular punishment having been meted out.

I shall leave the explanation for both of these tattoos for Clint to explain as our story continues.

W. Maximoff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haukkaselma = Clan of the Hawk  
> Hachidan = a middle-to-high ranking in martial arts  
> Kyudo = the Japanese art of archery. You can find videos online of practitioners. Zaiteki is the highest level of study if you want to go read up on it.  
> Cernunnos = Celtic god of the hunt and fertility (he shows up in my AU "The Hills are Alive" as well; I love celtic mythology)  
> Flidais = Celtic earth goddess, Lady of the Forest. Also linked to female sexuality.  
> Ex Filo = Latin meaning, roughly, "not born"


	7. A Penitent Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kneeling, sensei always said, is a sacred act. To be lower, not lesser, below, not beneath. Head bowed, the neck bared, sight lines obscured, trusting, giving over control. Head raised, the neck stretched, looking up, genuflecting, offering all.

Lift off wasn’t smooth but it was fast. I barely got buckled in before the ship left the atmosphere and we opened a jump gate, leaving the planet far behind. A bit of a shudder and two tries to enter the coordinates, but the Dodger held together, Steve Sex-on-a-stick Rogers finessing the controls and Bucky Fuck-me-now Barnes punching the hyperspace button hard to make it work.  

 

“Another planet we can’t go back to,” Steve said with a sigh once they were safely locked into their course. “How we’re going to stay in business …” 

“They won’t be lookin’ for us.” Bucky kicked back in his chair and grinned. “They’ll be chasing a ship called The Crossbones owned by one Brock Rumlow.”  

 

“You didn’t.”  Steve started to laugh. “Jesus, Buck, when he shows up and they try to take him in for questioning …” 

 

“It’ll slow him down.”  Bucky grimaced; whoever this Rumlow was, there was no love lost between them. “Put Willinno Tech on his tail too.”

 

Rogers stood up and looked at Natasha and me; we’d come up to the cockpit after closing the ramp.  Bruce had disappeared somewhere in the ship. Faster than light travel was new and exciting; I was still in the romance phase with space. Too long planetside; Danu really should consider adding a rotation off-world. Reading about other cultures is one thing; it’s completely different to experience them. 

 

“Mess’s on the left, common room on the right. Bunks are past the shower stall; it’s a dry one, no water, but it works. Usually,” he told us. “Only at half load, so you’re welcome to use the main hold if you want to exercise. You get hungry, help yourself. We’ll make planetfall in …” he looked at an old analog readout jury-rigged onto the dash, “... forty-seven hours.” 

 

Well, that was clear; don’t ask, don’t tell was the rule of the ship, or so it seemed.  Obviously, the good Captain and his first mate played loose and fast with the law, but then so many did.  It was the only way to make a living in some spots where the government was run by criminal syndicates and gangs provided the only structure. The Parliament could pass all the bills they wanted, politicians could talk a good game of helping the outer colonies, but they did little to actually change things. That took money and they were more interested in their luxuries than making sure freighters arrived on time and transports were safe from pirates. 

 

I headed for the bunk, hefting my bag; nothing was far in the freighter. She clearly wasn’t designed for speed but longevity, and there’s something to be said for strong bones. Fast and sleek don’t matter in the vacuum of space; this baby handled gravity and kept right on going through the wormhole without too much in the way of complaints.  Yeah, couple of the doors in the mess were vibrating, a steady thunk-thunk-thunk in time with the hum of the engine, and maybe there were some growing rust stains the inner walls, but the outer ones were sturdy and welded tightly. 

 

The bunk was a small space with four fold-down beds, two on the left and two on the right, and small lockers just inside the door.  I dumped my stuff in one and keyed in a lock sequence. It was going to be tight with all three of us in there; wasn’t much more than a turned body width between when two were extended.  Probably best if we took turns sleeping anyway. Not saying that I didn’t trust the Captain and his first mate … or Bruce or Natasha … but I’d really just met them all. I can sleep with one eye open if need be, but Natasha’d had a couple of chances to stab me in the back already and Bruce had freaked out just from punching a guy, so I ‘d take the risk.  

 

Kicking off my boots, I shucked off my shirt and pants, grabbed one of the soft if worn blankets folded in the corner, and dropped face down on a bunk.  I’d managed a short nap but the second fight had sapped all my energy. With the steady hum of the engine, tell-tale vibration running through my muscles, I had no trouble slipping into a light doze.  I heard someone come and go, light steps passing in the hallway, and ticking of another system kicking on and off. At some point, Natasha was talking, voice low and melodic, words indistinct then I went deeper and wasn’t aware of anything. 

 

Waking was confusing; I didn’t know where I was for a few heartbeats. My feet were cold -- I’d lost my socks, not an unusual occurrence since I ran hot when I slept -- and the blanket was wound around my legs.  The urgent need to pee finally got me up; I washed my hands with dry soap, tried to do something with my hair which insisted on sticking up at odd angles, then wandered back to grab some clothes only to be interrupted by Bruce. 

 

“Oh.”  He stopped, eyes widening and his cheeks turning red. “Didn’t realize you were … the door was open so I … yeah, ah, I should go.” 

 

“Nah.”  I rummaged in my pack. “You’re no bother.  I’ll only be a minute.” 

 

“It’s just …” Bruce cleared his throat.  “Most people wear clothes. Out here. I mean, not like on Danu. I know you don’t think of nudity the same…” 

 

I stepped into the clean pair of underwear I’d finally laid hands on.  “Just changing; give me a sec.” 

 

“Never did get used to it,” Bruce admitted. “Woman I worked with always showered after our time in the lab … safety first, you know … and she’d walk around the communal kitchen that way.  It was summer while I was there and there was so much skin on display, I just … it’s difficult for a good Catholic boy like me to deal with such a different attitude.” 

 

“The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes and the pride of life; I can’t imagine thinking that way. Worked a negotiation between the Benedictine Monastery on Cashiff and the Printer’s Galactic Association once.  Thought some of those monks were going to have heart attacks when they realized the bathrooms were gender neutral. Couple of them left in protest but the Abbot insisted the talks take place planetside. He was a smart cookie; shifted the sleeping arrangements so they were in one guest wing with an enclosed outdoor space.  Got a great deal out of the PGA in the end.” 

 

“The manuscript data pattern case? I remember that one; digital files as art and creative license.  Illuminated programming, an amazing thing. If programs can be intelligent, can they be artists? Going to have a lasting impact on tech fields in general, make it harder for the big corporations to claim invention by their employees is just copying and data entry.” 

 

“Don’t know too much about the legalities of it, but the PGA people were real assholes. One of ‘em tried to break negotiation quarantine; claimed it didn’t apply to them. Rich fucker.  Way she treated the workers was a dead giveaway.” Picking up the blanket, I flipped it a couple of times, hoping to find my socks. 

 

“Here.”  Bruce snagged one from on top of the far locker. “I wanted to thank you, for sticking up for me; I’m sorry you got caught in the crossfire.  Never wanted anyone to get hurt; things got out of control fast.” 

 

“That tends to happen a lot to me.”  I found the other after I folded up the bunk. “Pretty sure control’s a lie invented by the powers that be to keep us busy and unhappy.  Not sure why they want us pissed off all the time.” 

 

“So we don’t have the energy to figure out what they’re up to.  They stack the deck against us then tell us it’s our fault when things don’t go the way we want them to.”  

 

Such a sad turn of his lips and a long-suffering sigh; Bruce looked poised on the edge of giving up. 

 

“You know, if you need to talk …” 

 

“Last thing I should do is tell anyone else about it since that’s worked out so well so far.”  

 

I knew sarcasm when I heard it. Sarcasm and I are really, really old friends. It’s my native language.

 

“Okay, blow job it is.”  I stepped closer, tilted my head and waited for his answer.  

 

He huffed a laugh and I got a little half-smile. “Lived on your planet for almost a year and it still surprises me.”  

 

“You’re the one who brought up orgasms when we first met,” I reminded him. “You look beat, need to get some sleep, and I can help you get there. Plus, I get off on it, so, win/win.” 

 

“Been awhile.”  Bruce hesitated.  

 

They always hesitate, a moment of indecision before giving in to their desires.  I wasn’t sure what was so terrible about admitting that you enjoyed sex. We’d all but eradicated sexual diseases with simple medication, and pregnancies were easily prevented with a minimal effort.  Not like a little cock sucking would do that trick anyway. Sometimes I think it’s a face-saving move, so they can say, “I made the effort not to, I really did.” 

 

Honestly, what the fuck difference does it make if you never touch a penis or suck a million of them? Be safe. Get consent. Forget the rest. 

 

“Just a thought.”  I shrugged when he still hadn’t answered.   

 

“It’s a good one.”  Bruce let out a breath then stepped back and shut the door. “How do you …”  

 

I pushed him up against the wall and dropped to my knees. “Let me.” 

 

Kneeling, sensei always said, is a sacred act.  To be lower, not lesser, below, not beneath. Head bowed, the neck bared, sight lines obscured, trusting, giving over control.   Head raised, the neck stretched, looking up, genuflecting, offering all. To give pleasure without thought to self. A sublimation of need to another.  An invocation to be surrounded and engulfed. A prayer for release of tension. 

 

Slowly, I unlaced his shoes and helped him step out of them, rolled his socks down, unbuckled his belt, and opened his fly, pushing his pants and underwear down, tucking them out of the way. Revealed, freed, the beauty of bone and muscle, sinew and skin ready to be worshipped. 

 

There’s nothing like it.  I love the feel of a cock in my hand, on my tongue, sliding past my lips. Filling out, thickening, growing warm. The weight of it in my palm, the length bumping the back of my throat.  Thick or slim, long or short, cut or uncut, doesn’t matter; I can open myself to the very essence of a person, break the boundaries of self to be with and part of another. 

 

Bruce was perfect … everyone’s perfectly unique … as he stirred so eagerly under my first touches, light strokes of the tip.  Down and around his balls, back to the smooth skin behind, along the line to his puckered hole, I dragged my middle finger, each pass with more pressure.  I wrapped my other hand around his hip, thumb finding the crease where belly meets thigh, and began massaging, gently circling to gauge his sensitivity. 

 

“Oh.”  His brown eyes widened as he gazed at me. “That’s … Oh.” 

 

Like a tightly coiled spring, I could sense the tension in him; even as he grew more aroused, anxiety still wound around his core.  Well, that was something I could fix with a liberal application of my tongue. Shifting closer, I licked the head, swirled around the crease and along the vein on the bottom while my fingers kept working, digging deeper, stretching and moving the energy from bunched muscles.  Ever so tentative, Bruce’s hands settled on my head; I hummed encouragement, tickled his balls until he sighed, then rubbed his hole to make his cock jump. 

 

“God, you’re really good at this.”  

 

I chuckled, parted my lips, sucked an inch of his cock in my mouth, puckered, then released. 

 

“We’re just getting started.”  

 

Teasing has a purpose; each time I took a little more, pressed a little harder with my fingers, more of the stress in his body drained down, pooling behind his cock, building towards his release.  For me, I fell into the most delicious headspace where my only goal was giving pleasure, filling my mouth with Bruce. His heartbeat pulsed in his cock, his fingers dug into my hair, and my blood rushed in my ears, my breathing even and slow as I relaxed my throat and slid him deeper and deeper.  

 

Everyone’s breaking point was different; some need lots of time to grow ever so slow, others rush into the freefall at a break-neck pace.  The key was to sense exactly when Bruce was ready, the ever so slight drawing up of his balls, the clenching of his cheeks, the change in his breathing; I moved my hand from between his legs to his foot and dug my thumb into the point on the top, the one that sent a flood of endorphins rushing from his brain to his cock. 

 

“Fuck.”  He bucked and clutched at me, digging fingers into my scalp. “Holy hell.” 

 

He orgasmed and I closed my eyes, swallowing again and then again, accepting the offering, taking his stress and leaving him boneless. 

 

“Oh my God, that was …”  He sagged against the wall. “I think I just came so hard I left my body for a few seconds.” 

 

“Could be.”  I wiped a bit of come off the corner of my mouth and sucked my finger. “Osho says that orgasm itself isn’t sexual; sex is just one way to get there.”  

 

“The thing with my foot; what was that?” He blinked and his eyelids drooped. 

 

I rose, slipped an arm around him and tapped open a bunk with my toe. “Best stress relief pressure point. You were weighed down, carrying too much shit on your shoulders.” 

 

“I feel … lighter.”  He sat down and now he was looking up at me. “And tired.  Like I could sleep.” 

 

“That’s the idea. Plenty of time for a good long hibernation; you’ll be even better when you wake.” 

 

“But I need to …” He took the blanket I held out. “I didn’t …” He made a broad motion with hands towards the ridge of my cock that was pressing against the front of my pants. “Reciprocate. Get you off.” 

 

“Next time,” I promised. “I like to be fucked.” 

 

“Jesus.”   He flopped on his back. “I’m gonna dream about that.” 

 

I chuckled as gathered up a few things before leaving the room, turning off the light. As exhausted as he’d been, I didn’t think we’d hear from him for the rest of the flight. For me, well, my stomach was as empty as my mouth, so I headed to the galley to grab a bite before I got in some exercise to burn off my excess energy.  Someone had left protein bars on the counter next to the reusable mugs; I grabbed two, drank a whole cup of water then filled it up a second time and took it with me. 

 

Wasn’t hard to find the cargo area; it was the heart of the ship and every corridor passed through. I came out on a walkway that crossed over the space and linked back to the bridge.  Clattering down the metal steps, I stuck my head into the two doors on the lower level and found the engineering section and what looked like a small med bay, barely big enough for an exam table. I assumed the crew quarters where on the opposite side and didn’t bother to check it out.  Not my place to go poking around in someone else’s business, so I pretended not to notice the wall that hung out too far and the door hidden behind a battered two-seater land rover. If the good captain occasionally shipped things that should be kept from prying eyes, well, that was his prerogative. 

 

My goal was to stretch my muscles and get a little practice in.  The empty pallets were good enough for a target; I set them up at various places and popped a mini-projector button in the center, making sure there was enough room for both shooting and a couple of katas.  Tapped the tuner behind my ear and started the music; have to appreciate the effort to ensure the ship had a strong signal. It’s the simple things like being able to connect even in the depths of space that make technology worth the effort.  

 

I tossed my shirt on the hood of the rover, shucked off my boots and socks, left my mug on the bumper, opened my bow, laid out arrows, and plotted a course over the crates and other items I could use.  By the time the first song had ended, I was ready to get started. Centering my weight, I balanced on my feet and raised my arms over my head. Slow breath in on the way up, releasing on the way back down.  Then folding over, touching my toes, shaking loose the kink from sleep; I flowed through the movements, keeping things simple at first, staying with positions I could do without thinking, focusing on filling my lungs and tightening my core.  

 

First rule: clear the mind of distractions.  Always struggled with that … the whole overthink it to death thing … but I managed it today with relative ease. Maybe a combination of actually using my skills, waking up the muscle memory of draw and punch and shoot and dodge, and the lingering hard on helped; I was half in my body already, closing off the conscious mind and sinking into the unconscious.  By the time I was in  [ bow pose, ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/upward-bow-or-wheel-pose) my shoulders were singing to me, pulling across the blades, opening up my chest; I eased down to my elbows, shifted to  [ staff ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/upward-facing-two-foot-staff-pose) , both feet flat on the planking. 

 

**Up** , my inner voice whispered. 

 

Lifting up, I put my weight equally on my palms and  [ tucked my knees into my elbows ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/crane-pose) , holding until I felt the knobs of my spine give up their tension.  [  Extending my legs  ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/firefly-pose) was next, the pressure shifting, pulling my center of gravity into my gut. From there, I swung  [ my feet to the ceiling ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/handstand) , arching my back as I exhaled out of my toes, worries bleeding into the atmosphere. Gods, it felt good, like being weightless; I split my legs into a  [ straddle ](https://unsplash.com/photos/vVO3v3UA94U) , felt my glutes tighten then give way before  I swung my legs back up,  [ bent my knees and touched my toes ](https://www.popsugar.com.au/fitness/photo-gallery/30676351/image/30676327/Handstand-Scorpion) to the back of my head. 

 

Tremors shook my shoulders, sweat running into my hair from the back of my neck as I held the pose, shaking loose any remaining knots of doubt. Feet back to the ceiling, legs pressing together, upper back as fulcrum, I levered my body to the horizontal  [ peacock  ](https://www.yogajournal.com/poses/peacock-pose) over an agonizing count of one hundred then held it until I crossed into that place in my head where only the plane of my body registered as real.  

 

The change in the music’s tempo surprised me; I’d lost track of time floating in between the pull and the release.  Curling my back one spine at a time, I rested flat on the floor for twenty heartbeats before I flipped up, reached for my bow, drew the string and fired.  

 

Went through three senseis because I refused to change my practice style to a more traditional one.  They didn’t mind the music or the jumping or even the dance moves I kept integrating into my routine.  No, it was my lousy technique holding my bow, my preference for speed over deliberate aim. For a place that prized individuality so damn much, they didn’t like it when someone did things differently.  Of course, that was mostly because of my asshole of a dad and my mom’s ‘poor choice’ to get pregnant by an off-worlder. The powers that be talked a good game, but I wasn’t included in the ‘all Danuean’ category.  Pure luck that I found anyone willing to let me do my thing without constantly being told how wrong I was, how I needed to lower my shoulder and do the damn spider thing with my fingers. My way might not be elegant or perfect, but it worked. I could shoot faster and further than most masters, which, of course, had pissed them off. 

 

Didn’t really matter now, did it?  I was on my own in every way that counted and most that didn’t.  I could put on a song with a techno driving beat and fire away to my heart’s content.  Switch from shooting to using the bow as a staff to vaulting up onto a stack of crates then jumping up to the crosswalk and backflipping down, getting off three arrows in mid-air.  I could hook a knee around one of the support poles, dry hump it like an alley cat, switch to boxing jabs, add some flying kicks, and keep going as one track melded into the next. I could push myself to try new things, combine disciplines, use whatever was at hand as obstacles and support. I could explode the boundaries of self,  feel body become the music, music pull the string, string stir my libido, libido drive my fist through the air. Fighting was dancing, dancing was fucking, fucking was fighting.

 

A bow stick blocked my path; I rolled with it, dodging to the side and catching the other one on its downward arc.  Natasha raised an eyebrow, grinned, then tapped my tuner, making the music spill into the bay. 

 

“Mind if I cut in?” She asked, but didn’t wait for an answer, launching a feint to the left before attacking from the right.  

 

I was already dancing, only now I had a partner.  She was the best I’d ever sparred with, even counting the challenges back on Danu.  Graceful, deadly, smooth, aggressive -- she constantly changed, never staying with one style.  Sticks gave way to hands and feet then flips and a chase across the crates and up on the crosswalk. Ducking and weaving, I managed to meet her hit for hit, occasionally getting the drop on her with some strange combination.  The longer we fought, the wider she smiled, and the better I understood her methods. 

 

It was when she sprang off a crate to wrap her legs around my neck that she made her mistake; she expected me to be distracted and I imagine many men would be with their head buried between her thighs.  But not me; I tipped us forward and trapped her beneath my weight when the fall knocked the breath out of her. 

 

“That usually works,” she said. 

 

I rose and offered her my hand. “Oh, trust me, I love women’s bodies … the curves, the taste, the smells … but the middle of a fight isn’t the time for it.  Well, maybe if we’d agreed it was foreplay … or were doing the angry sex thing … as long as we’d talked about it first. Helps that I’m not super-repressed about my sexuality and have to prove how masculine I am all the time.” 

 

“Would have worked on me.”  Bucky leaned against the railing, gazing down at us. His hair was tied back in a messy bun, wearing soft pants and a sleeveless shirt. “That was pretty damn amazing; never seen anything like it and I know a bit about the arts.”

 

“Buffet style.” Sweat dripping into my eyes. “Take what works with your strengths and meld them together. Not for the faint of heart.” 

 

“Yeah, I imagine so.”  One side of his lips quirked up. “But I wouldn’t mind giving it a shot.”  

 

“I’m always up for it.”  I winked because, yeah, I’m a little shit.  “You?”

 

“Not sure he could handle both of us,” Natasha said. “We’ll have to see. Right now, I’m hungry.  Either of you cook? I burn water.” 

 

“I can pop stuff in the hydrator. Come on.”  

 

I gathered my things, pushing off the questions about Natasha that were piling up and staying in the settled space from the workout.  I hadn’t completely figured out what game she was playing, why she’d brought me with her, what her ultimate goal was. And now that knew how good her training was, well, I was even more confused. Then there was Bruce’s big secret, whatever he had that Willinno wanted enough to chase him across the galaxy.  

 

I really didn’t know much of anything. 

 

So, pretty much, things were normal. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I find thinking about Clint being all yoga flexible pretty damn sexy. Tried to find some really good videos but they're all too bland for what I wanted. Interesting to note that Robert Downey Jr is a yogi and there are some pics out there of him doing really amazing poses. 
> 
> Steve and Bucky are soooooo patterned after Firefly and Captain Malcolm Reynolds. 
> 
> Next chapter, planetfall and we meet Phil ...


	8. Inter-chapter #4:   Bluecoats: The Fight for Independence in the Outer Colonies 2876-8.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from the History Video series, Bluecoats: The Fight for Independence in the Outer Colonies 2876-8.

Excerpt from the History Video series,  _ Bluecoats: The Fight for Independence in the Outer Colonies 2876-8 _ . 

 

**Return from commercial break 12**

 

{Fade in on a 360-degree view of the Valley of Sedon on New Belgrade}

 

**Voice over:** In the aftermath of the devastating loss, what was left of the Bluecoats splintered and dispersed across the worlds of the far outer rim.  With the leaders of the rebellion either dead or captured, little will remained for further fighting in the face of the overwhelming presence of Alliance ships.  This remote, mountainous area became a graveyard for the hope of freeing settlements from the rule of the centralized government, the snow-covered peaks covered with broken bodies and dashed dreams.  

 

{Close up montage of images of the battle’s aftermath}

 

**Tape of Colonel Chester Phillip’s testimony:**  They pulled out the big guns on us, dropped lethal gas, carpet bombed the whole damn valley. I saw good men and women go down without a chance, choking on their own vomit, ground up like yesterday’s meat.  All the while they were saying how they were treating us well, offering to come to the table, talk … yeah, no, they never had any intention of talking to us. We were less than human to President Schmidt who called us bugs to be exterminated.  Of course, no one heard that until after everything was over; the media kept it quiet so not to inflame the situation. Inflame, my ass. Those fuckers knew people’d riot if they ever found out just what the so-called government thought of us out on the fringes.

 

{Tape of President Schmidt at the podium giving his famous ‘Court of History’ speech}

 

**Voice over:**   Immediately following the battle, President Schmidt announced that the police action was over and the galaxy at peace once more.  

 

**Tape of President Schmidt:**  The Court of History will make its pronouncement upon the charge which is brought against these rebels and judge us as those who simply wanted the best for our people, who wished to fight for what is right. In the sight of the Goddess who presides over the Eternal Court of History, we shall be acquited as heroes. 

 

{Tape of Bluecoat prisoners being off-loaded at the Raft}

 

**Voice over:**   Even as he proclaimed the Alliance to be on the side of good, the captured Bluecoats were being delivered to maximum security facilities designed to house the worst kinds of criminals.  Split between the Raft and the Cube on Oceania Seven, the prisoners faced interrogations, torture, and inhuman conditions that violated the Third Geneva Convention.  

 

{Images of cages and interrogation rooms interspersed with the smuggled video of prisoner treatment}

 

**Testimony of Major Margaret Carter** :  I’ll call them what they were -- Concentration camps.  The people there had no medical care, little food … they drank from toilets for water.  Crammed five and six into single rooms, women stripped searched on a regular basis, indiscriminate rape by the guards.  Waterboarding, beatings, sleep deprivation … the Alliance wanted to break the prisoners in the harshest way possible. And for what? The rebellion was over, there was no intel to gather, nothing to be told.  They did it because they were angry, because they wanted to make an example out those fine men and women who’d done nothing but stand up for their right to live peaceably and be free from harassment. We shall never forget what was done in the name of history, ladies and gentlemen. Never. 

 

{Shift to images of the abandoned Raft and Cube today}

 

**Voice over:**   As the Danuean backed peace negotiations got underway, the Alliance began shifting what they called ‘high-value targets’ to a new base on the asteroid Barneo.  Run by a civilian contractor, the operation was kept off-the-radar of all but a handful of committee chairmen and military brass. It was here that the worst of the atrocities would take place -- genetic testing and medical procedures like out of science fiction.  

 

**Cut to commercial break 13**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The excerpt from Schmidt's speech is a paraphrase from Adolph Hitler's speech in Munich on April 12, 1922. A nazi's a nazi, right?
> 
> I am indeed conflating a number of real-life events here ... Abu Ghraib prison, World War II, Concentration Camps, and the current crisis on the American/Mexico border. Somehow, I'm pretty Peggy Carter would get along like a house on fire with Alexandra Ocasio Cortez. :)
> 
> And, yes, in Firefly, they're called Browncoats and it was the Battle of Serenity.


	9. A Just War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve shares and Clint meets a man who pushes all his buttons. 
> 
> Hint: It's Phil!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so these chapters are taking longer for me to write than usual. The inter-chapters are so much fun and then I find myself really thinking through the backstory and letting myself get all indulgent to world build and that takes time. Thing is, I'm having fun and not worrying, so I hope you stick with me on the lazy pace of posting.

“Those mean something.”  Steve nodded towards my arm.  “You’re from that planet, right, the one with all the …” 

 

I held my breath; I really didn't want to hear what was coming next. I knew all too well what most people think about Danu.  The planet of the sluts who’ll do anything with anyone. Normally, it doesn’t bother me too much … yeah, no, it bugs the hell out of me, who am I kidding … but when I like the person, it’s worst. Steve reminded me of Carol and I missed her confident belief in right and wrong plus her wicked sense of humor.  Her moral compass was stuck on stupidly optimistic in the face of danger and Steve was just like that. He’d rolled with the punches and kept saying it was not a big deal. Personally, after spending a couple of hours with Bucky helping restack the cargo that got thrown onboard in a hurry, I was pretty sure trouble was always going to be following them, just like it did me. 

 

“Yeah.” I cut him off. “We all have ‘em.”  

 

Steve set down the crate he had lifted by himself. “Didn’t mean to pry. It’s just, I like to try my hand at drawing and those are some fine examples of ink work.” 

 

Well, now I felt like an idiot for being so brusk.  

 

“Tattoo artists on Danu have to apprentice for years before they become journeymen and get to do tats of their own.  A Master can pretty much pick and choose their clients. This one,” I pointed to the second band in my military designation, the one that I got when I shifted from the rank and file to tactical long-range specialist.  A slim line of deep navy with an embedded pattern that used to mean something but didn’t anymore, “was done by a journeyman as part of their Master’s challenge. Didn’t understand exactly what he meant when he explained how hard it was to do, just that there are four layers of the same color in different gradations as camouflage.” 

He reached out a hand, paused before he touched and waited for my permission. Yep, that’s sexy as hell.  I lifted my arm so he could run a finger over the ink.  

 

“Wow, almost an optical illusion; the pattern is hiding in plain sight.  Master level work, indeed.”

 

“Oh, he didn’t make it; had to do four different tats and one Guild member voted against him.  Didn’t like what he did on the freestyle. A freakin’ amazing merman complete with glittery scales; too traditional, the guy said.  He was jealous of Matt’s style.” I didn’t pull back as Steve traced the lines of some of the others, lingering on the hawk wings, each feather detailed. 

 

“I’ve seen one like this before.”  He tapped the four rings that denoted the negotiations I’d been involved in.  “At the armistice, when the Alliance forced us to the table after Sedon. The guy who worked with the diplomatic team had one with eight, maybe nine bands.  He was assigned to tell us what was happening.” 

 

“A liaison, yeah, pretty shitty job, honestly.  Have to update people who’ll be affected by the decisions.”  I grimaced; I’d delivered some terrible news that way. Sucks that a small handful of assholes can control how so many others live. “The Independence Concord was one of the worst; even our best diplomats couldn’t get the Alliance to listen to reason.”

 

“Stopped them from transferring all the prisoners-of-war to the Raft and the Cube; I might never have found Buck if they did.”  Steve’s eyes darkened. “Even the Alliance is afraid of your military; pretty sure I wouldn’t have walked away from Barneo if you guys hadn’t insisted on amnesty for all combatants.” 

 

I looked at Steve anew; anyone who’d been at Barneo had to have been important in the rebellion.  A frigid ball of ice, the planet was one of the furthest outposts of Alliance forces. Some sort of surveillance base, they said, to watch the edges of known space; the investigation had uncovered a lot of cells and interrogation rooms after the fact.  

 

“I was just done with my field certification when the talks happened.  Ran protection detail, mostly, for lower level delegates who wanted to leave the compound and visit the city.  That’s this one.” I pointed to the second band, one of interlocking circles, repeating five-fold without end. “Simple black since I wasn’t involved with the actual talks, just the peripheral stuff.” 

 

“Never got planetside; they keep us on one of the Alliance cruisers in orbit.” Steve shrugged. “Seen way too much of the inside of one of those holding cells; it was touch and go there for a bit once everything was over, but finally decided to head further out and Buck and I haven’t looked back since.”

 

“Touch and go.” Bucky huffed, wiping grease off his hands with a dirty rag. “That’s Steve being nice; he was ready to take on the whole damn Alliance to get me back once he realized I was alive. Honestly thought I was hallucinating when he showed up and dragged me out of that hell; had to keep him from kicking every single one of their asses and just get me off that rock.”  

 

Fuck, that meant … I’d read the report about what some of those Alliance scientists were doing.  Still pisses me off that all of the documentation was sealed as part of the deal. If the universe knew the truth, well, I hope they’d get angry and do something about it.  Evil like that’s cancer, man, that’s what it was. Full-blown, metastasized cancer eating away from the inside out.  

 

“Bucky thinks I should have left him there.”  Even his grin couldn’t hide the hurt Steve carried with him. “I made a promise and I intend to keep it.” 

 

“‘Til the end of the line, yeah, yeah, you keep harping on it.”  A softness stole over Bucky’s face, making him look younger, sanding away the hard edges. “I can’t get rid of this sap so I’ve learned to accept him being underfoot all the time.” 

 

“Hey.” Bruce paused in the doorway, hands twisting his crumpled shirt, eyelids half closed from his long sleep. “Not to interrupt, but, if you have a moment? I was wondering where are we landing exactly? At the main port?”

 

“Well, technically, we’re not landing anywhere,”  Bucky said. “Georges Batroc has been granted permission to set down the Leaping Legionnaire. He’s got a contract for a load of a local fish that’s considered a delicacy in the inner circle. Since Batroc’s an asshole, pisses off everyone, people will give him a wide berth.”

 

“Buck.”  Steve shook his head. “You can’t keep doing this; nobody’s going to buy that the Dodger is a Contrail 2800. Batty’s always going on about that damn engine …” 

 

“Which is why he didn’t take it on this trip. Seems those fish are on the prohibited list because of some environmental concern, so he’s flying under the radar.”  

 

Now that was a shit-eating grin if I’ve ever seen one and I do look in the mirror on occasion.  Made my brain imagine that same smile in a very different situation and, damn, that knocked all other thoughts out of my head.  

 

“Look, I’m sorry to cause you problems.” Bruce apologized for the fourth time. “If there’s anything I can do …” 

 

“Wouldn’t know how to fix an IO 1747 Mark 2 drive chain would you ‘cause the one we’ve got is running on pretty much spit and paper clips right now.” Bucky nudged Steve’s shoulder hard enough to push him off balance. “We’re gonna have to break down and buy a new one soon; it’s barely holding on as it is.  Whole bucket of bolts is libel to vibrate apart at any given moment.” 

 

“She’s a good ship,” Steve protested as if Bucky hadn’t spent the last half a day crawling inside the engine to find out what the loud rattle was. “Just needs a little polish and she’ll be right as rain.” 

 

“Steve’s a glass-is-half-full type of person, but this is a glass-is-sucking-on-fumes situation,” Bucky told us. 

 

“I’m an Astro-chem-physics person, not an engineer. Ask me about gamma based spaceborne sickness, I can talk for hours, but machines? Not my thing.”  That was the first real detail Bruce had offered since we’d taken off. Pretty heavy duty field of study; we still didn’t know for sure what caused the green plague, as it was called, and lots of scientists were racing to find a cure. A terrible disease that stripped away people’s humanity, leaving nothing but anger and violence; even on Danu, we’d heard about Culver, the settlement where everyone had died before help could arrive.  

 

“Don’t look at me.” I held up my hands in surrender.  “Tech stuff like comm units and connections, sure, haggling about prices, but nothing bigger.” 

 

“The 1747’s getting on in years,” Bruce said. “Heard they phased it out once the 2100 series came out; gotta be hard to find parts.” 

 

“Still quite a few floating around out here; we’ll find a salvage place on Riviera, get what we need.” Even Steve didn’t sound fully convinced. 

 

“I know someone; I’ll give you their name.”  Natasha strolled in and we all stopped to stare.  Her hair was red, long ringlets bouncing down her back and framing her heart-shaped face.  She was dressed in black cargo pants and a matching vest over her white tank top, the unofficial uniform of hired security everywhere. Green eyes crinkled at the edges as she smiled. “Blondes may have more fun, but people don’t take them seriously.”  

 

“No, I don’t know,” I answered Bucky’s question before he got his mouth more than halfway open. “And I don’t care as long as she pays me on time.” 

 

“You’re working …” Bruce trailed off, pressing his lips closed. “Sorry, not prying just surprised. I didn’t think you two knew each other before the other night …” 

 

“We didn’t,” I explained as much for Steven and Bucky as Bruce. “I needed a job and she offered, so here we are.” 

 

“Wait, wait. You’ve only known each other, what a few nights?  And you fight together like that?” Bucky’s eyebrows were raised. 

 

“Danueans are trained to adapt to other styles; makes them lethal as hell.”  Natasha leaned against the back of a chair. “Just the possibility of their forces attacking makes people agree to about anything.” 

 

“A threat is only as good as the power backing it up.” Steve nodded. 

 

A chime sounded; Steve glanced over as the nearest screen filled with a cascade of symbols that flashed and faded, overlapping each other.  He tapped some buttons, smacked it once, then flicked it off and on before it was readable. 

 

“Got our tug assignment and landing pattern. Buck, you want to …” 

 

“Heading to the bridge now.  Don’t forget the cigars for the Commerce Officer and the pure grain shine for the Tug operator.”  Bucky headed towards the door. “Oh, and these guys are heading for Proxima Centauri for that big trade show, UnEvision, the one with all the new techie gear.  Everyone’s got passengers going that way.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Messed up one time and he never lets me forget it.”  Steve clapped Clint on the back. “So, negotiations, eh? You any good at government babble?  Somehow we always end up in the worst docking bays; think you can get ‘em to give us one that’s not hell and gone from the terminal?” 

 

“Saying nothing while slipping contraband under the table and stroking egos of government officials?  I live for that, Captain Rogers.” I cracked my knuckles. “Let’s wrangle you a good spot, shall we?” 

 

Both Bruce and Natasha disappeared when the customs shuttle docked to inspect the cargo. The officer, a genial gentleman who made a box of fine cigars disappear into his bag quickly, was an easy sell; he wasn’t looking for trouble, having clearly put the Artful Dodger in the ‘mostly harmless’ category. The tug operator, however, was a tougher nut to crack; she had a chip on her shoulder about rattletrap ships that were more rust than metal -- of which the Dodger was definitely not one -- and I sussed out pretty fast that she was getting paid by some big transport lines to put them front and center where most people would see them.  Even in outer space, name recognition was a big deal. I commended her on such a well-ordered and sensible policy, noted that we were in the market for some upgrades and asked if she could recommend a good place to get started. Turned out there was a little docking bay close to the biggest retail seller of engines, right up near the front of the spaceport. All we had to do was pass her name along and we’d get a discount … or not darken the door and she’d still have done her job. 

 

“Too bad we can’t keep you around,” Steve said once we landed. “Nice not to have to hike half a day to get anywhere.”  

 

Made me feel warm inside, being needed.  I’m a praise hound, what can I say? “Might take you up that when this job is over."

 

Bucky punched me in the shoulder and grinned. “Haven’t forgotten you said you’d teach me some of those moves. If you still need a ride, we’ll be here for two days.” 

 

I just about licked my lips at the blatant offer. “Oh, now that …” 

 

“... will have to wait.”  Natasha caught my elbow. “Until I’m done with him.” 

 

“Offer stands for all of you.”  Steve nodded towards Bruce. “We’ll have room.” 

 

 Bruce ducked his head;  Natasha tugged Clint down the extended ramp.  

 

“Thanks, Cap,” I tossed back as we left. “Appreciate it.” 

 

 “Too nice for his own good,” Natasha grumbled as I hefted my pack more securely.  “At least Barnes seems to understand how things work out here; he might keep them safe.” 

 

“Pretty sure Rogers is tougher than he looks,” I said. “He was at Barneo.” 

 

Her eyes widened and she glanced at the very broad shoulders of the retreating form. “Damn.” 

 

“Clint?”  Bruce tapped me on the shoulder; I turned.  “I wanted to thank you, again.”  

 

“It was no bother.”  I watched his eyes darted towards the archway and the crowded pedestrian walkway beyond.  “Hey, if you need anything …” 

 

He shook his head. “No, I’m good.  Best if I move on.”  

 

“Bruce …”  I sighed because, yeah, whatever he was involved in, I’d probably do the same thing, isolate myself to avoid collateral damage.  Go it alone, like I’d been doing ever since I’d been kicked out. “Good luck.” 

 

We touched hands, a quick graze, and then he was gone, out into the flow of people. Natasha raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. 

 

Four stops later, my energy was beginning to flag; shopping wasn’t my thing, especially trying on things and sitting around waiting as clerks ran back and forth, supplying us with new items and whisking old ones away. Natasha had her own agenda and I was along for the ride; even the casual clothes were designer labels and the suit needed alterations that would be ready, for an extra fee, later the same day.  Through it all, she played the bodyguard, deferring to me but really running the show, as if I was one of those wealthy brats who had nothing better to do than run around the galaxy, slumming it on backwater worlds where I could do what I wanted. At each store, she dropped hints about where I’d been, things I’d done; she asked about nightlife and gave the name of the best hotel in town when asked where I was staying. It was easy enough to play the part of the spoiled rich boy even if I was confused as hell.  She’d said I was going to be her security; why the sudden role reversal, I had no idea and she didn’t offer an explanation. 

 

By the time we got to the hotel room, where a reservation waited under the name Ivan Drake, I headed straight for the bar, poured a finger of whiskey and took a long sip.  

 

“The meeting’s in an hour.” Natasha opened the doors to the small patio then checked the bathroom. “Wear the outfit with the purple jacket. We’re going for artfully grungy; tousle up your hair with the products on the counter.  Think famous vid star on vacation where you might get your pic taken and splashed on the news. Place is just down the street, a cafe called Kikilin’s; I’ll meet you there.” 

 

So many questions but really only one important one. “Weapons and how many?” 

 

“I was so right about you.”  She flashed me a smile. “Taser on the belt and in plain sight; darts and knives hidden. Only a 15% chance you’ll need ‘em; this is purely informational.” 

 

I availed myself of the fucking huge shower, giving the soaking tub a longing glance.  Maybe, if we actually came back here, I’d use it later. The stall was enormous and I had time to really enjoy the mildly scented soap, sudsing up all over and standing under the fall of water until I started to prune up. Keeping with the theme, I decided rich kid Ivan would definitely jack himself off, and if I alternated between imagining curly brown hair between my fingers, a wicked smile with a metal hand around my cock, and muscular arms holding me tight, well, a guy can dream. I took my time dressing, even added a smudge of liner and a touch of powder from my own stash before heading out.

 

“Over here,” Natasha called when I stepped through the door of the cute little place. I’d half expected some fancy establishment with white tablecloths and insane prices, but this was more of a diner, with booths and a long counter, the menus printed on simple paper and tucked behind the condiment holder.  “This is Phil.” 

 

My first thought was how normal Phil looked.  Brown hair, slightly receding hairline, military cut, lean body in a perfectly cut suit, tie knotted in at his throat. Blue, no green, no grey eyes. But then his lips quirked up in a  goofy half smile, I slipped my hand into his as he offered, and gun callouses rubbed against my skin, a scar running across the back, the edge of ink peeping out from under his cuff, and he wasn’t normal at all, he was the fucking sexiest thing I’d ever seen. 

 

“Hey. Phil, huh?  Nice name, really rolls on the tongue.”   I opened my mouth and words fell out, brain too caught up in the rush of endorphins flooding it as my dick reminded me it was there.  His forehead creased and he glanced at Natasha then back to me; I stroked my fingers on the underside of his wrist before I let go and took the empty seat next to him.  “You could have warned me he was hot, you know,” I said to Natasha. 

 

“You have to forgive him.” Natasha smiled indulgently. “He says whatever pops into his head. No filters at all. One of his more endearing traits.” 

 

“Ah.”  Phil held his body ramrod straight, a tension running through him. On guard, watching the exits … yeah, he was much more than he seemed. “I see.”

 

He didn’t, not really, but who could blame him?  I was behaving like a teenager with his first boner but it fit the reckless wastrel persona, so I was running with it.  Maybe I could talk him into trying out that big bathtub with me. Yeah, now that was a lovely thought to brighten the prospect of the evening. 

 

“When I see something I like, I go for it.”  I leaned into it. “And I’ve got a daddy kink that you’d be perfect to fill.” 

 

“Don’t scare Phil off.” Natasha tapped her fingers on the table top. “We need his expertise.”

 

“Hey, man, I’m messing with you.”  I sat back and dropped the sexual wattage back three degrees. “This planet is boring; gotta make my own fun, you get it? Not that I don’t find you attractive, ‘cause you are, and you’d be a great way to pass the time … ”

 

Intelligence sparked behind those gorgeous eyes. “I’m afraid my time is already spoken for, but I appreciate the sentiment. Plus, I have a rule about getting involved with customers; too difficult to determine consent when there’s money crossing palms.” 

 

Oh, gods above, he worried about power dynamics.  My dick twitched at the thought of negotiating kinks with him.  Wonder if he would be as unflappable when I talked about spanking.  “More things than money that throw shit out of balance; gotta be upfront about it, lay it all on the table before the fucking starts.” 

 

“That’s … quite enlightened,” Phil said. I’d surprised him. Good; I liked being off-kilter sometimes.

 

“Phil’s got the best contacts in this part of the galaxy.” Bless her heart, Natasha was trying her best to keep us on topic. Since she was paying me, I let the very entertaining banter drop. “And he’s reliable which is a rare commodity in our line of business.”

 

“You have the package yet?”  Phil asked, stirring his mug of what looked like coffee but smelled very chocolatey. “I’ve got meetings lined up once I verify the contents.” 

 

“We do. I can have it ready to transport in a day.”  She slid a data crystal across the table. “This should be enough to get the ball rolling.” 

 

Phil tucked it in an inner pocket of his jacket and rose.  “I’ll get back to you with specifics once I look this over.” 

 

I made no bones about watching him leave, the way his pants hugged his ass and his jacket fit his shoulders perfectly.  Still knew next to nothing about what was going on, but I did have a few important questions I wanted an answer to. 

 

“Ex-military, right?  Alliance I’m betting from the haircut, probably one of those soldiers who realized how fucked up the higher muckety-mucks were, took his retirement, and got the hell out of there to find a different life. That’s what makes him so good at what he does, the training and being aware of the bad shit going on.”  

 

“You’ll have to ask Phil; it’s not my story to tell,” she answered. “And if you’re going to want to fuck everyone we meet, that’s going to get old pretty fast.” 

 

“Nah, Phil’s just pushed all my buttons. Besides, I can look but not touch. Or touch but not fuck. Or fuck but not cuddle. I control my dick, not the other way around.” I waved at the waiter who’d been hovering just out of ear range, giving us our space. “You, for example, are in the ‘don’t mess with me unless I specifically tell you I want you to’ category. I get that.” 

 

“You do, do you?”  She picked up her menu and we ordered; once the waiter retreated she continued.  “So you don’t want to sleep with me?” 

 

“I’m willing to open negotiations and discuss the possibility even admit I was wrong if it turns out you are interested.  Been thinking you weren’t into the sex part of the equation; strikes me you’re looking for someone you can trust more than someone to fuck.”  

 

Her spoon stopped halfway through the stir long enough to let me know I’d hit the target.  

 

“Trust is earned.”  She looked me straight in the eyes. “And I don’t know you well enough yet to begin to trust you.” 

 

“Agreed.” I nodded. “I’m interested in a relationship with you, whatever form that may take.  Sex or no sex. Friends or colleagues. Trust me or not. You’re a fascinating person worth taking the time to get to know better.” 

 

“I don’t know what to do with you, Clint Barton. You keep surprising me.” 

 

“Never a dull moment with me around,” I promised.

 

Little did I know just how prophetic those words would be. 

  


 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooo many things in this chapter. 
> 
> Yep, that's a direct nod to Firefly with Steve and Bucky. 
> 
> Sedon is a valley high in the French Alps, i.e., like the train scene in CA:FA
> 
> Barneo is an ice-camp high up in the Arctic Circle. Winter soldier, ha, get it?
> 
> The Raft and Cube are Marvel prisons (see the Raft in CA:CW and the Cube in Earth's Mightiest Heroes). 
> 
> The green plague is a triple nod to the Hulk's gamma rays, the Reavers in Firefly, and the black plague. Settling other planets, we'd definitely run across diseases and pathogens we've never seen before. 
> 
> Batroc is one of Steve Roger's nemeses and he appears in the beginning of CA:WS. Bucky's going to be using a lot of aliases as the story goes along. 
> 
> Danuean culture has, at its core, three paradoxical values. They believe in free love, unconditional sexual acceptance. They value military might, fighting skills, and preparedness. They also believe that a military solution should be the absolute last option; negotiation is at the center of everything. And all three of these are talked about in religious terms. Thus the discussion here about peace talks, the threat of Danuean intervention, and Clint's "opening negotiations" with Natasha.


	10. Inter-chapter #5:  The Massacre on Khođaumoi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Massacre on Khođaumoi -- From Galactipedia

#  The Massacre on Khođaumoi

 

_ From Galactipedia _

 

The Massacre of Khođaumoi (2877.14.22) was a mass murder of unarmed civilians on Goryeo Geunseui during the Fight for Independence, also known as The Bluecoat Rebellion (2876-8).  242 unarmed people were killed by Alliance soldiers from Company C, 1st Unit Land Detail. Victims included men, women, children, and infants. Twenty-six soldiers were charged with criminal offenses, but only Francis N. Simpson, a platoon leader, was convicted. Found guilty of 22 counts of murder, he was originally given a life sentence, but the decision was later overturned upon appeal.

 

The massacre took place in the small community of  Khođaumoi on Goryeo Geunseui; the town was established in 2791 as part of the repatriation of the Second Korean Civil War descendants.  Farming was the primary industry along with a water treatment plant that served the larger city of New Busan. During the Rebellion, Goryeo Geunseui aligned themselves with the Bluecoats, but opted to remain neutral territory because of Buddhist beliefs against the killing of human life.  Doctors without Boundaries established medical facilities on the planet; both Alliance and Rebellion troops were treated at the largest, the Hospital of St. Maria Teresa. 

 

After a disastrous confrontation at the Port of Athans, a battle that saw the second highest losses for the Alliance, Company C was tasked with tracking down the Bluecoat leaders in an operation dubbed  _ Snake Head _ .  Under the direction of General Thaddeus “Thunderbolt” Ross, the Company arrived on 2877.14.18;  Ross sent word to the Alliance that Victoria Hand, General of the Bluecoat Middle Regiment, and two of her compatriots were suspected to be hiding in Khođaumoi.  Two days later, Company C entered the village to search for their targets; within hours, all inhabitants were dead.  

 

 Attempts to bring justice to the perpetrators were made by soldiers who were on the ground during the massacre. Seven official protests were filed; those who spoke out were shunned and publically denounced as traitors by Senator Garry Stern, Chairman of the Galactic Services Committee. Any service member who spoke in support of the seven were reassigned or discharged. 

 

The incident became public knowledge in 2881 after the signing of the Danuean negotiated the cessation of hostilities. A galaxy-wide outrage followed and prompted both a Senate investigation and the appointment of a special prosecutor.  During the hearings, General Ross stated that the villagers shot first; his aide de camp, Sargeant Emil Blonsky, and Platoon Leader Simpson agreed. Because of what the Senate called a lack of evidence, no charges were brought against  Ross or Blonsky. Special Prosecutor Jennifer Walters’ report was published in 2884; damning in its detail of the failures of the chain of command, the report sent in motion numerous changes to the Alliance’s rules of engagement.  

 

30 years later, Simpson recanted and testified that Ross had given the order despite the village elders insistence there were no Bluecoats present.  After Simpson’s confession, others came forward to present their version of events. The original whistleblowers were recognized and decorated for their pursuit of justice, two posthumously. 

 

In 2986, Gwen Talbot, Ross’ granddaughter, published a family history called  _ Growing Up Ross _ ; based upon her readings of the General’s personal logs and journals, she said he admitted giving the order to fire but remained unrepentant of his actions. His greatest regret, according to Talbot, was his estrangement from his daughter, Dr. Elizabeth Ross Talbot, the famous cellular biologist who developed Mutation Genomic Patterning (MGP). 

 

Khođaumoi was one of the largest massacres of civilians by Alliance Forces during the Bluecoat Rebellion. The town is now a historical heritage site with a museum dedicated to the people who died and the Fight for Independence.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First, we all know Ross is a villain no matter what the MCU says, right? 
> 
> I've patterned this after the Massacre at My Lai entry in the Encyclopedia Britannica. If you don't know about this atrocious war crime that happened during the Vietnam War, you can read the entry here: https://www.britannica.com/event/My-Lai-Massacre
> 
> Frank Simpson is a Marvel character named Nuke, a soldier who goes crazy and becomes a villain. He's called William Simpson in season one of the Netflix series, Jessica Jones. 
> 
> That's Victoria Hand from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. making a cameo here, along with Jennifer Walters, the She-Hulk, as the special prosecutor. 
> 
> Don't intend for these inter-chapters to all be so dark; there will be lighter stuff coming up soon. :)


	11. Chapter 5:  It's Called a Pint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint overhears something important, a villain shows his face, we learn more about Phil, and the shit hits the fan.

“... opened an hour ago …” 

 

“… happens when you drink so much in one …”

 

“... the juice freshly squeezed …” 

 

I took another sip of my coffee, holding the bitterness on my tongue before swallowing; being a wastrel rich kid had its perks and getting the table with the best view at the hotel cafe was one of them.  The waiter had let me have my pick and now I could see the busy street just below, walkway hewed from black rock, the dormant volcano in the distance, jutting up into the pale pink sky. A perfect place to people watch, a favorite pastime of mine; there’s just something about the ebb and flow of bodies of all types, soothing and fascinating at the same time.  Wasn’t above some eavesdropping on conversations around me; tables filled and emptied as I slowly nibbled on some toast, sunshades over my eyes and a never empty cup thanks to the attentive staff.  

 

I’d slept in after my late night.  Stopped by the bar after Natasha had headed off on her own after dinner was over, and I mused on the little details she’d deigned to let drop as we’d talked.  One stuck in my head: she’d mentioned the spa facilities at the North Institute and even I’d heard of that place. Super famous resort where rich people and celebrities went to get plastic surgery or mud packs or be walked on by goats.  Always popped up on the news when drug-addicted stars went to its rehab facility, Gynacon. Thinking of all the scenarios where she’d end up in a place like that occupied my mind through a couple drinks and then I’d gotten distracted by a lovely woman with the most amazingly plump hips and round ass. I spent a long time worshipping at her altar, parting the luscious folds and burying my face deep between her thighs.  She wore me out in the best way possible; I didn’t even notice if Natasha woke when I crawled in my bed, the soft sheets lulling my eyes closed as my head hit the pillow.   

 

“... time for all of that, we’ll be exhausted before …”

 

“... terrible service! I’ve never waited so …”

 

“... Banner before he causes …”

 

“... have to go with you because …”

 

Took a second to sink in and to find the direction the conversation was coming from.  Three tables over, two men, one older, greying hair, bushy mustache, pasty pale skin, and the second younger, brown hair, neatly trimmed goatee, dark skin shining in the midday suns. Both wore simple polos, one red, one blue, and khaki pants that all but screamed military with their ironed crease and exact same cut. Basic disguise 101 -- don’t wear any part of your uniform if you want to pretend to be civilians. I let the other sounds drop away, evened out my breathing, and widened my senses to focus on their voices.  

 

“... was unexpected,” the young guy was saying. “We underestimated his resourcefulness; we’ll be ready this time.”

 

“It was your idea to use local contractors,” older guy said, unhappiness weighing his words. “I want the package on the ship by tonight.” 

 

The young guy hesitated. “Tonight will mean messy and loud.  Tomorrow I can do quieter and in one piece.” 

 

An exasperated huff and the snick of a lighter as the older guy lit a cigar. “You said you had this dealt with; what’s the problem?” 

 

“It’s a matter of avoiding collateral damage plus there’s the other interested party to avoid …” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, fine. Tomorrow morning, no later.  I want off this mudball; I’ve already had to push back three meetings because of your incompetence. Unless you want to be transferred to Walnut Grove, you’ll do the job.” 

 

“Yes, sir.” 

 

I should leave it alone; wasn’t my problem, not really.  I barely knew Bruce and one blow job didn’t make for a long-term relationship.  Keep my nose down and don’t lose the job I had, that’s what Jess would tell me if she were here. Sensei would second that piece of advice and my superior officers had disciplined me enough for operating outside my defined responsibilities. Carol, on the other hand, would tell me to get off my ass and help a friend, thus why she was in trouble as often as I was. 

 

So, of course, I was going to at least warn him that these guys were gunning for him.  Good God, what had Bruce done to get an Alliance military higher up on his tail? There was no mistaking a man used to giving orders and having them followed without question.  A Generals at least, if he was Ground Defense or Marines, a Rear-Admiral if Space Fleet based upon his age; he had to have been part of the Bluecoat rebellion and, damn it, now I was worried about Steve and Bucky.  Guys like him tend to not forget and, if they’d been as high in the ranks as I thought, he could make their lives hell if he found out they’d helped Bruce. I’d have to swing by the ship to warn them too. I left the table and headed upstairs.

 

First thing I did was change; I needed to hide as many weapons as possible and not draw attention to myself. The blaster rode on one hip, straps buckled around my thigh. Then I loaded up my pack, checked my bow, and slung it over my shoulders.  I’d have to find Bruce, but that wouldn’t be too hard. Obviously, he was close since the military asshole thought he could be contained by tonight. And he had to be somewhere with a lot of people, thus the collateral damage comment. That meant either the touristy part of town, a grand total of three square blocks around this hotel, or, more likely, the poorer section where most of the field workers and service people lived crammed tightly in carved out apartments and winding streets.  I didn’t know that area but I was sure I could find someone in the kitchens or on the cleaning staff who did; one thing that never seemed to change was how lavish lifestyles were built on the backs of the workers who toiled away for next to nothing.  

 

“... on the quiet side when we …”  Phil Coulson paused as he entered, following Natasha through the door.  Those changeable eyes raked me from head-to-toe, cataloging every sheath and holster then settled on my arm where my tattoos were on full display.  As he gave me another of those little half-smirks, I remembered I’d worn long sleeves last night. “You’ve been keeping things from me, Natasha, not that that’s a surprise.” 

 

 “His name is Clint.” She shrugged in that elegantly casual way of hers and kept walking to where her things were already packed in her small bag. “We’ve got a small window of opportunity, gentlemen, let’s not let omitted details get in the way. We can leave now and have an extra hour to plan.” 

 

“Now?”  Damn it, of course she’d have business to conduct at this very moment. 

 

“You have somewhere else to be?”  There was an edge to her voice, a reminder that she was paying for my services. 

 

“No, I’m good.”  I could think on the fly; wouldn’t be the first time I’d done two jobs at once.  Two was easy; juggling four, that was difficult. “Any instructions?” 

 

She didn’t buy my glib response, but she didn’t call me on it. “Take everything and act bored while we check out. Once we’re out of the hotel, you’re a local who knows where they’re headed. Watch for tails and be the rear guard. And cover those; no need to advertise.” 

 

We closed the door behind us and I gave a second of longing thought about the tub -- I never did get a test soak to see how it felt -- then we were in the elevator and down in the lobby.  True to Ivan Drake’s persona I wandered away to look in the shop windows as Natasha dealt with the front desk. For once, my luck held and I saw the older military guy at the front doors, talking to the doorman. 

 

“Of course, General Ross. I can have transport arranged while you’re with us. Would you like a driver as well?” 

 

My breath froze in my chest.  General Thaddeus Ross. The man who’d led the raid on Khođaumoi; he’d been acquited by a military tribunal, but that didn’t mitigate the fact he’d slaughtered every soul in the small settlement to arrest a trio of Bluecoats who weren’t even there.  The media called them terrorists, but I highly doubted the two women and one man had been anything more than independence fighters. Only people who believed that line of bullshit were rich, comfortable, and living the life of privilege the inner circle could bring.  The ones who were sure their way of life was right, so sure they were willing to massacre children to keep it that way. 

 

“Don’t stare,” Phil said, voice even and low. “Turn and smile at me, laugh if you can, like I just told you a joke.”  

 

Took effort, but I managed it, the sound more a choked off chuckle, but it worked.  Ross didn’t look our way as he strode to the stairs and headed up to what I assumed was his floor.  He did notice the sashay in Natasha’s hips as she passed him and he ogled her breasts in that way powerful men who assumed they could take any woman they want tended to do.  Made me want to shoot an arrow in his eye socket even more. 

 

“Son-of-a-bitch.”  I exhaled, fingers itching for the touch of my bow.  “That was …” 

 

“It was indeed,” Phil agreed. “He hates the colonies; whatever brought him this far out can’t be good.” 

 

Bruce.  God damn it all to hell, Thunderbolt Ross was after Bruce. 

 

“I need …”  

 

“Let’s go.”  Natasha didn’t pause as she passed us, her words an order I didn’t want to resist.  

 

Don’t make a scene, yeah, I could do that.  Out the front door, a left on the sidewalk and join the flow of pedestrian traffic that wove under the basalt archways.  The whole damn city was dug into the stuff, a reminder of the powerful eruptions that formed the valley. In this part of town, the work had been done by artisans who drew waves and lines and patterns in the grey rock. Storefronts were built of the same material with different color gradients; brightly painted signs and panels broke what would have been a  monotonous span.  

 

“I need to send a message.”  Phil motioned towards a corner shop with fresh fruits and vegetables stacked outside. “Give me five.”  

 

We entered and he peeled off, wandering towards the baked goods as he tapped on his wrist unit.  I went for the cold drinks, snagging a tube of soda, that double caffeine stuff in mango tango flavor, and twisted off the top after paying, chugging down a third in one go. 

 

“I want to find Bruce,” I said when Natasha joined me in front of the vid screen that was playing the local weather. “Warn him.”

 

“Our business won’t take long.”  She sipped her own drink, some turmeric-laced health thing. “You’ll have the rest of the day; I want to leave earlier than scheduled.”  

 

I really liked how she didn’t ask why or what happened, just let me do what I needed to do. Nice and neat without a lot of bother.  

 

“Shall we?”  Phil had a pack of those premade mini-donuts, the ones that lasted forever because of all the preservatives, one already gone and another in his hand. 

 

I reached over and took one, popping it in my mouth. Due to government regulations on Danu, I’d never had stuff like that; trying food that someone else said was bad for me was one of my new pleasures in life. It crumbled, the powdery white flaking off on my fingers; wasn’t the best thing I’d tasted but I licked my fingers, one at a time, for Phil’s benefit. 

 

“Okay, boys.”  Natasha pushed between us. “Save it for later and let’s get moving.” 

 

Riviera was three settlements joined by a series of tunnels; we wove through the foot traffic, caught a tram that took us from the touristy port part of the city to the residential area, solidly middle-class housing with shops and restaurants beside clincs, churches, and government offices. Doubling back three different times, Natasha took us a roundabout way and I kept an eye out for tails. If there’s one thing I’m damn good at, it’s my eyesight.  Always could see things that others couldn’t. It’s not bragging if it’s true. Honest.

 

She turned into an alley between a place selling those little two-seater transports with big wheels for rough terrain and a pub called the Four-Faced Liar with lively music spilling out the front.  Down the way, a garage door was open; inside, mechanics tinkered with three models, all in various stages of being torn apart and put back together. We skirted the busy area into a side workshop where a big man on a rolling stool hunkered over a very different conveyance.  I drooled a little at the sleek curve of metal and polished silver handlebars. 

 

“Wow.”  I circled the machine. “I’ve never seen one fully restored. It's gorgeous.” 

 

The man stood, grabbed a piece of cloth and wiped his hands; he towered over me and his shoulders were twice as wide. Smooth bald head reflected the overhead lights.  

 

“An original 2518 Harley Davidson Fat Boy 24.”  His deep voice practically caressed the motorcycle. “Quite a story to this old girl; shipped out on a transport with a rich settler, got stuck in a garage for 200 years, kept clean and in running order but never taken out, passed down through the family until a great-grandson cheated on his wife and she sold it at auction for 25 credits to spite him.”

 

“Thus why it’s important to keep your pants zipped.” Natasha offered her hand. “Mack, I presume?”

 

“You must be Natasha; nice to put a face to the name finally.” His palm dwarfed hers. “Phil’s told me nothing about you; for a man who deals in information, he can be less than forthcoming.” 

 

“That’s a good thing.”  Phil gave an easy smile to a man who was obviously a friend. “This is Clint. Clint, this is Alphonse Mackenzie, best mechanic in this part of the galaxy.” 

 

“Call me Mack.”  He squeezed my fingers gently; I liked him immediately.  “Give me a second to clean up; why don’t you grab a table next door and I’ll be right there.” 

 

Whatever we were here for, Mack didn’t want to do it at work, and a crowded bar was fine with me.  I could use a good pint and, as soon as we walked in, I was half-in-love already. A long bar dominated the room, twelve taps lined up in front of a good selection of liquor. Tables filled every corner, backed up to the banquet seat that was literally part of the smooth rock of the wall, cool even in the midday.  Locals took up most of the space; we found seats in the back behind a partition with elegant spindles that ran from ceiling to floor. The waitress came over just as Mack joined us. 

 

“What’s good, maybe local?” I asked. Why buy stuff that’s been shipped halfway across the galaxy when there’s enterprising people making it right here?  

 

“Sheep Meadow uses hops grown in the ash fields; their lager is excellent, the strong ale even better. And if you’re hungry, they make a mean meat pie.” Mack turned to the waitress. “I’ll have a lager today, Darna.”

 

“Make that two. Any specials today?” Lesson seventeen of growing up in fosterage:  eat when you can, especially if someone else is probably going to pay. 

 

“The pie of the day is alderbeast and mushrooms.  Very tender, raised at a farm on the slopes.” 

 

I glanced at Mack. “All dark meat, not too gamey, much better than the stringy beef they breed here,” he explained.  

 

“I’ll try it,” I told the waitress. 

 

I was the only one who ordered food; didn’t bother me a bit.  Soon as the beer came, I took a long sip of the hoppy crispness and sighed. It was so much better than the piss I’d been reduced to buying with my previous limited funds. 

 

“Interesting thing happened this morning over in the village.  Money’s being spread around, questions asked. Not just one interested party either; Hartley’s had three different inquiries since the first shift started.  One was an Alliance officer, another one of those high-cost security types hired by companies who don’t care about their bottom line.” 

 

And now began the information exchange part of our agenda; not surprising to hear that both Ross and Willinno Tech were as subtle as a piano falling from a window. Neither struck me as caring too much about who they had to go through to get Bruce.  But the fact that they were already on Bruce’s trail was more than worrisome. 

 

“And the third?”  Phil asked. He scanned the room without seeming to look anywhere but at Mack; man knew his business, that’s for sure.  

 

“The most dangerous:  a professional. Blended in, acted like a local … the boys at the counter missed her entirely.  If she hadn’t spoken to Isabelle on her way out, she’d have gone completely unnoticed.” 

 

Phil looked at Natasha. Natasha looked at Phil.  Mac raised an eyebrow. I drank more of my beer. 

 

“That’s a lot of excitement for one day; I bet Elena loved it.” 

 

There was some serious messaging going on here and I was missing at least half of it.  Oh, well. That’s how my life went. If I waited until I knew everything, I’d sit around on my ass all day watching vids and going nowhere.

 

“She’s visiting her sister in Johnson; baby came early and her mom couldn’t get transport out for a week. First kid for Rita and her husband’s on a half-a-year voyage”  Mack grimaced, worry etched on his dark skin. 

 

“Congratulations.”  Phil sipped at his own drink, carefully placing the glass on the coaster spot that lit up.  “Probably for the best she’s not around, isn’t that right, Clint? After your little run in this morning at the hotel?” 

 

Ah, okay, I was catching on. Say it but don’t make a big deal out of it.  “Yeah, can you imagine? Running into old Thunderbolt Ross right there in the lobby?  About made me lose my appetite … oh hey, that looks good.”  

 

The plate the waitress put down in front of me was loaded with a flaky pastry stuffed full with chunks of meat and a green mushroom that was probably indigenous.  Fungus grew almost everywhere and humans couldn’t help but try and eat them, slim chance of poison and all. I forked up one and popped it in my mouth; definitely woodsy but with a hint of salt and a lacy texture. Got one of those half-smiles from Phil as I fell to eating. 

 

“Ross is here?”  Mack dropped his voice. “Jesus on a cracker, Phil. If he saw her … I’ll message her, tell her to stay a few extra days, see her mom. How long? Any idea?” 

 

The name scared him and Alphonse Mackenzie didn’t strike me as the type to be afraid of anyone. Had to be Elena he wanted to keep out of Ross’ line of fire. Just like I wanted to protect Steve and Bucky; too many grudges left from the rebellion, and Thaddeus Ross would carry them like sharpened knives.  

 

“I think I heard him say something about leaving tomorrow,” I offered. 

 

That earned me a glance from Natasha. “In the morning?”  

 

“Yep, first thing.  Other guy wanted more time, but Ross claimed he was missing some meetings or something.”  

 

Kind of nice to be the one who knows rather than the guy on the outside for once. Not that I didn’t plan on sharing, just hadn’t had the time. 

 

“What other guy?”  All pretense dropped, Phil speared me with those gorgeous eyes, held me captive with his focused gaze. “Tell me exactly what you heard and saw.” 

 

So I did, going word-by-word through the conversation and describing Ross’ lackey right down to the droopy eyelid and bumpy nose. I omitted Bruce’s name; look, I might be attracted to Phil, and I’d love to ride Mack if he weren’t so clearly in a committed relationship, but I didn’t know them.  Bruce was an “acquaintance I’d had sex with who was fast on his way to becoming a friend” and that meant his welfare came first. 

 

“Blonsky.”  Mack’s eyes hardened; Alliance or bluecoat, Mack had been a soldier too. “Hartley thought she saw someone else hanging around but didn’t get a good look at him. After what happened at the Vault, I thought he was sanctioned and busted down to private.”  His big hands balled into fists. “If he and Ross are involved … Damn, I’m glad I didn’t send that data stream; Alliance has ways to trace even off-the-book waves.” 

 

“So you didn’t …” Natasha began.  Mack answered before she finished. 

 

“Didn’t have to. Math holds up; I was just going to get a scientific second opinion, but, yeah, it’s the real deal. That shit’s going to make a lot of people nervous including, but not limited to, military bastards like Ross who want to control the universe.”   

 

An tingle started between my shoulder blades; a little niggle danced along my spine.  As I ate the last bit of pastry, I closed my lips around the tines, sucked the gravy off, slid the utensil out of my mouth, and sighed loudly as I cut my eyes to the left; there at the bar on the sixth stool in the row, someone was scanning the room using the mirror behind the liquor bottles.  Couldn’t pinpoint a gender -- short hair was almost snow white and the clothes were indeterminate -- but the constant swivel of their head gave them away.

 

Shifting closer, Natasha bent her head towards me.  “Where?” 

 

I tilted in like we were having a private conversation, giving our watcher my back. “Bar. Six down. Looking for something; hasn’t found it yet.” 

 

“Too many variables. Could be a coincidence.” 

 

The front door opened; walking in, Bruce hunched his shoulders and headed to the bar.  Snow White went ramrod straight, hand dipping into their pocket and drawing out a communicator.  I started to push away from the table, do something, I don’t know what -- I didn’t have a plan, just knew I needed to help. Phil put a hand on my arm.  

 

“There are no coincidences,” he said. “Mack, get out the back; you can’t afford to be seen.”  

 

He drained his beer and stood up, carrying the empty glass to the bar, pushing in between Snow White and the businesswoman next to them.  “Hey, Nar! Make me one of those Jolly Green Giants, would you?” 

 

Bruce’s head jerked around;  Phil pulled back at just the right second for Bruce to get a good look at Snow White. Sliding off the stool he’d just taken, Bruce put the menu back and turned to leave.  Snow White stood, but Natasha was already in motion, blocking their exit, putting her hand on Phil’s shoulder. 

 

“It’s too early to start the heavy drinking,” she said, tugging on Phil who resisted; whichever direction Snow White picked, the two of them shifted in their tug of war. “You’ve had enough already.” 

 

“I’m celebrating my freedom,” Phil protested, bumping into Snow White as he jerked away.

 

I nodded to Mack as he hesitated. “Go on, I’ve got their back.”  

 

He took a long look at me then ducked down the hallway towards the toilets.  

 

“You’re no fun! Why are we friends again?”  Phil complained as he gave in and followed Natasha back to the table. 

 

Snow White dashed out and I hoped Bruce had enough time to get out of sight.  Damn it, now it was going to be even harder to find him later. And speaking of Bruce …

 

“I don’t usually ask questions ....”  No doubt about it, Phil Coulson knew who Bruce Banner was and that he was on the run.  

 

“I told him.” Natasha dropped some money on the table, more than enough to cover the whole bill. “Payment for services rendered; Phil collects information.” 

 

“Okay.” It also meant Phil was my best bet to track Bruce down later, if I had anything he might want … and yeah, I meant that in more ways than one. “We’ll talk about coincidences later, eh?”  

 

We left by the side door that opened into the alley, Phil weaving slightly just in case Snow White was still around. I had a sudden desire to know exactly what I’d gotten into considering there were at least three different groups out there who could be detrimental to my personal health.  

 

“Phil Coulson. So here’s where you’ve run off to lick your wounds.”  

 

It was Ross’ guy, the one from earlier;  he was standing in the alley, blocking our way.  Now that I saw him up close and in the light, I could see the lines on his face, the gaunt frame. Mileage, that’s what it was; the man had been through rough times, faded and worn. 

 

“Blonsky.  I thought I smelled a foul stench on the air.” Phil didn’t hesitate, just kept walking; we followed, Natasha swinging out to the right and me to the left.  

 

“I hear you’re the man with all the answers on this hell hole.” Blonsky fell into step with Phil and ignored us. Bodyguards, okay, I could roll with that; easy enough lie to sell. “Tell me what I need to know and I won’t tell Ross you’re here.” 

 

“Fuck you, Emil.”  No mincing words for Phil; he must really hate this guy.  I decided I loathed him on principle because of the company he kept. “I don’t give a shit what you do.” 

 

“Now, Phil, you are still technically available for reactivation; wouldn’t take more than a single call to have MPs banging on your door.” He tried to get around in front of Coulson, but Phil had the sexiest big dick strut that I’d ever seen.  Only way I’d want to be on the receiving end of that swagger was if it was going to end with me underneath him, preferably begging with words like harder, faster, more please.

 

“You can try. One of us has an honorable discharge with Red and White Star; last I heard, your boss had you by the short and curlies, and he wasn’t doing much better with his superiors. I know who I’d put my money on winning.”  

 

A woman stepped out of a store on my left with military pants and a square jaw.  Another angled out of the crowd in front of Natasha. I turned my chest to squeeze through an archway and counted three more behind us.  Natasha flexed her fingers in response to my slow blink. They were converging on our position.  

 

“I don’t have time to play nice, Phil.”  Emil’s voice was whiplash-quick, anger bubbling to the surface. “Tell me where Banner is and I’ll pretend I never saw you.” 

 

“And the squad you have pulling the noose tight around me right now?  Are you going to keep them from talking? Same old shit, just a different planet.”  Phil’s grinned, a shark about to bite. “Better be careful, Emil, or you’ll hang yourself.”  

 

“Still a sanctimonious asshole.” Blonsky lifted a hand. “Have it your way.” 

 

Darts in hand, I hit one then a second then a third; all went down unconscious. Natasha whirled in a nigh on perfect  [ spinning hook kick ](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/PastImpassionedEuropeanpolecat-max-1mb.gif) , nailing the closest one in front; she took two running steps and  [ crescent kicked  ](https://thumbs.gfycat.com/AnguishedNaturalAlaskanmalamute-small.gif) the hell out of the other guy.  Before Blonsky had finished the last syllable, I had my blaster aimed between his eyes. 

 

“I intend to.”  Phil calmly stepped over the moaning man who’d fallen across the sidewalk.

 

I kept a bead on Blonsky until we’d turned the corner; Phil headed for the tram station and we slipped between the closing doors of a departing car. Phil dropped into a double seat and I took the outer position; he exhaled and I could feel the slightest tremor where our legs and arms were pressed together. 

 

“I am so screwed,” Phil murmured. “Fuck my life.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much happening in here! 
> 
> That's Mack from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. and Elena Rodriguez aka Yo-Yo. 
> 
> General Ross is a bad guy no matter if the MCU writers want to redeem him. 
> 
> Emil Blonsky is the Abomination ... see The Incredible Hulk movie for more about him and Ross. 
> 
> I love, love, love chicken and mushroom pie with a pint of cider in a pub. Like, I want to be in London right now, eating and drinking. 
> 
> No clue if a Harley Davidson motorcycle will be around that far into the future, but I'm the author, so I say it can be true, right?
> 
> Hmmmmmmm ... wonder what Phil did to make Blonsky and Ross hate him so much .... remember, Ross didn't see him in the lobby ... stay tuned!


	12. Inter-Chapter #6:  Hyperspace and Wormholes, A Comedy in Three Acts. Act III, Scene I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hyperspace and Wormholes: A Comedy in Three Acts
> 
> By Joe Orton
> 
>  
> 
> Act III, Scene I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editor's Note: During the popular resurgence of farces and fabliaux during the latter half of the 31st century, the planet Danu became synonymous with sexual excess. Many phrases and sayings became linked to Danuean culture through these plays, and the validity of their origins are highly suspect. Famous productions of What the Butler Saw, La Cage Aux Folles, and Spaced, among others, were updated with references. It's fitting to excerpt Orton's Hyperspace and Wormholes here because of the thinly veiled connection of the protagonist, Dr. Leo Samuels, to Tony Stark. Of all the Starkian humor, Orton's works were less cutting and savage; in this particular piece, Leo and his wife end up happily polyamorous at the end of the play rather than the usual moralizing of others of its ilk.
> 
> W. Maximoff

**Hyperspace and Wormholes:  A Comedy in Three Acts**

_ By Joe Orton _

 

**_Act III, Scene I_ **

 

_ [In Dr. Leonard Samuels lab, late at night] _

 

Paul: _[behind the changing curtain; clothes appear over the top as he speaks]_ Are you sure this is the only way?

 

Leo:  _[unbuttoning his shirt]_ Of course!  We have to test the … stability of the connection … on different body types …

 

Paul: _[peeks around edge of the curtain; Leo freezes]_ But why do we have to take our clothes off?

 

Leo: It’s um … static electricity. Fabric inhibits the build-up of energy!

 

Paul: Oh. _[withdraws behind the curtain. Leo continues until Paul’s head pops out the other side]_ You mean when I shock myself after dragging my feet on the carpet?

 

Leo: _[frozen in some strange position]_ Exactly!

 

Paul: Okay. _[disappears again]_

 

_ [Leo gets his shirt off and rummages in a drawer, pulling out a series of increasingly strange objects like a ruler, a flashlight, a dictionary, and a set of handcuffs.  He takes out a stack of infotabs; the audience can see the top on entitled  **Sex Secrets from the Planet Danu** ]  _

 

Leo: Aha!

 

Paul: Did you figure it out? I knew you would. You’re a real genius, Dr. Samuels, and a wonderful philanthropist.

 

Leo:  Don’t forget billionaire!

 

Marg: _[voice comes from off-stage]_ Right this way Mr. Clarkson.  I’m sure Leo won’t mind if you take a look around his lab; after all the good charity work we’ve done, you deserve it.

 

Leo: _[to the audience]_ Oh, shit. My wife.

 

_ [Leo ducks behind a piece of equipment on stage right, clearly visible to the audience. Two shadows appear in the doorway] _

 

Mr. Clarkson: _[off-stage]_ I’m quite interested in anything you wish to show me, my dear. 

 

_ [Leo sees his shirt, ducks out to grab it, and barely gets hidden again before his wife and Mr. Clarkson enter] _

 

Marg: _[with a giggle]_ Why Mr. Clarkson, what a lovely thing to say.  I do appreciate you being so very attentive. 

 

Mr. Clarkson: Anyone who doesn’t pay attention to you isn’t worth knowing.  Technology holds nothing compared to a beautiful woman. 

 

Marg: _[blushing]_ Oh, my. 

 

_ [Paul tosses his pants over the curtain. Only Mr. Clarkson notices] _

 

Mr. Clarkson: So what is it that your husband does in here?

 

Marg: _[to audience]_ His assistants, mostly. [to Mr. Clarkson] He’s working on something to do with wormholes, I think. 

 

Mr. Clarkson: _[walks over to table, sees the objects laying there]_ Ah, the problem of successful entry; yes, I believe I read about some idea he has to ease penetration. 

 

Leo: _[to audience]_ Oh, God, she’s not going to fall for that bad line. She’s too …

 

Marg: _[lets out a little gasp]_ Penetration? Mr. Clarkson, you have quite a way with words.

 

Leo: _[rolls his eyes at the audience]_ There’s never a good reason to use the word penetrate

 

Mr. Clarkson:  The word does roll on the tongue so easily.

 

_ [Clarkson steps closer to Marg. She closes her eyes and tilts her head up in anticipation.  Meanwhile, the curtain shimmies] _

 

Paul: _[from behind the curtain]_ Are you ready?

 

Marg: Oh, yes, I’m ready.

 

Leo: _[emerging into the room]_ Aha! 

 

_ [Marg jumps back, surprise on her face] _

 

Leo: Now I see the truth of the matter!

 

_ [Mr. Clarkson steps away; Marg tries to speak but before she can say anything, Paul emerges, completely naked] _

 

Paul: Let’s do science!

 

Marg: Science!  Of course, you’re doing science!

 

Leo: Charity work! Of course, you’re doing charity work!

 

_ [Mr. Clarkson and Paul exchange glances] _

 

Marge: _[points at Paul]_ He’s naked!

 

Leo: _[points at Mr. Clarkson]_ Successful penetration?

 

Marg: That’s better than the line you used on me.  Be the CEO of my heart, my ass!

 

_ [Marg storms towards the door] _

 

Leo: Don’t you throw that in my face again.  I meant it and you know it.

 

_ [He follows; they exit, shouting still heard off stage] _

 

Mr. Clarkson: _[does a slow perusal of Paul from head-to-toe]_ Well, you know what they say on Danu …

 

Paul: _[cocks his head and returns Mr. Clarkson’s look]_ What do they say?

 

Mr. Clarkson: A cock is the hand is worth two in the bush. 

 

_ [lights go down] _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *puts on my English professor hat*
> 
> I'm a big fan of medieval fabliaux and farces as a whole. Both are works of drama that use highly exaggerated and impossible scenarios to amuse their audiences. Fabliaux, in particular, often had satire at their heart, using humor to say biting truths. Some of the earliest examples include "The Miller's Tale" from Chaucer's The Canterbury Tales and The Boy and the Blind Man from the 13th century. France excelled at the farce, and so too did Britain, but the genre is far from limited to Western Europe. Today, there are the films of Steven Chow (Kung Fu Hustle and Shaolin Soccer), Edgar Wright (Hot Fuzz, Shaun of the Dead), Sajid Khan's Housefull, and Sondheim's A Funny Thing Happened On the Way to the Forum. 
> 
> I do love a scene where there are people in hiding, being caught in flagrante delicto, and lots of asides to the audience. 
> 
> Yep, that's Tony as Leo, Pepper as Marg, Phil as Mr. Clarkson, and Paul ... well, I'm pretty much imagining him as Clint. I've kind of written the final act in my head where Leo and Marg realize they want to have an open polyamorous marriage and Mr. Clarkson and Paul ride off into the sunset together. :))))


	13. Chapter 6: A Punny Thing Happened on the Way to the Spaceship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint comes up with an exit strategy that involves two sexy hunks with a space ship, a tense doctor who needs relief, an asexual girl dressed as a boy, and a man with all sorts of control. There are sooooooo many sexual puns as our heroes finally find their rhythm and come together at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to apologize for this chapter at all.

“Wow, A.C., you really stirred things up out there; the dark net’s all atwitter about an Alliance invasion force.” The girl who bustled into the room had her head down over a mini-vid screen.  “Someone got a couple photos before bodies were whisked off the street and a grainy shot of the guy overseeing the mess. Won’t be long until someone runs a depixilating sweep on …” She looked up and stopped, dropping the two packs she was carrying on the floor.  “Oh, wow. Those are some serious arms, like, yeah, please tell me you’re single.”  

 

I didn’t say anything, just stared. 

 

“The silent type? That’s sexy.”  She flipped her long bangs out of her eyes and looked her fill. “I’m Skye, Friend of Phil, Queen of Networks, Princess of All Things Digital. And you are ….?”  

 

“Too old for you.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the wall. 

 

“Damn it, A.C. got to you already didn’t he? One time, Phil, just that one time, I swear.” 

 

“Wait, you’re not going to flirt with her?”  Natasha turned surprised eyes my way. 

 

“She’s, what, 16?”  I shrugged; sue me, but I like a little mileage, okay?  A few wrinkles, some life experience. Honestly, I do have preferences.  Just because I enjoy sex and do it when I want doesn’t mean I always want it.  Skye was cute, but in the way that a kid sister would be. “Not my thing.” 

 

“I’m 18,” Skye insisted. Phil coughed. “In three months. I’ll be 18 in three months.” 

 

“We don’t have time for this right now,” Phil intervened before Skye could continue. “What I need is a sitrep and exit strategy rundown.” 

 

“Your place is cleaned out and locked down; stuff’s in the prescribed location. I wiped your vid lines and messages, bank account’s empty, and new i.d.s are ready.” She tossed over a small cloth pouch. “Paid Sera Actron for the next six months through the L.L.C. Mack’s transit left ten minutes ago; he went with Plan 14.  I’m going with Plan 6.”

 

“Plan 14? 6?”  Natasha asked before I could. 

 

“A.C. has exit plans for all of us. He’s amazing,” Skye said. “14 is stolen documents;  nobody questioned Mack leaving to take copies of his wife’s birth certificate and registration.  Always easier to jump a flight with originals rather than try to go through official channels.” 

 

“Took me forever to get travel visas and a temporary license.”  I spent far too much time in embassy limbo waiting in line after line.  “I’d buy it.” 

 

“And I’m off to see The Green Doormen in concert on Fhloston; Jemma won a ticket package from IGalaxy Radio this morning.  Everyone knows that’s my favorite band.”  

 

“Normally, I’d frown on using her skills to rig the contest, but this is a special case.”  Phil examined the documents she’d provided, selected one to tuck in his pocket, and then passed the rest back to her. “Do you have time to sew some confusion before you leave? Use the name Emil Blonsky, report some sightings, get the boards riled up about Alliance overreach.” 

 

“Got a blank ready to roll; already made deep fakes with different faces on you and your friends here, not that the camera caught anything.”  She propped her mini-vid screen on a table and opened a virtual keyboard. “Just have to add the name … hey, isn’t he one of those dudes who killed all those people in that town?  That asshole? Oh, okay he’s getting the deluxe treatment. Let’s see, just need a pic of him from … and merge it with … yep, there we go … and, boom, wide dispersal. He's gonna be looking over his shoulder in five, four, three … and the hits begin to rack up … won’t be long until the … yep, got the first reply from an outlet wanting to use the image … he won’t be able to step foot in public without cameras trained his way.” 

 

“Good.  That’ll buy us some leeway. Now get on your transport and go enjoy yourself.  Tell Simmons I said hello.” Phil put a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful. I don’t think they’ll find you, but if they do, tell them everything you know and be cooperative.  Remember to call Murdock and Nelson for representation.” 

 

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”  She closed the keyboard. “I’m handy to have around, you know; I could come with, erase our trail …” 

 

“I promise I’ll let you know when I settle somewhere and then we’ll talk about it.”  Phil put his arms around her and gave her a fatherly hug. “But until I know exactly what I’m dealing with, we’ll stick to the original plan.” 

 

“Fall back to somewhere safe and then regroup.”  Skye sighed. “ That means you too. Don’t go off and get yourself thrown in jail or something.  You owe me a dance at my wedding.”  

 

“Gotta find someone to marry first,” Phil joked.  “Maybe you’ll meet them on Fhloston; keep an eye out.” 

 

“Hey, badass redhead and sexy bicep guy, take care of him for me, okay? He’s one of the good ones.”  

 

I pretended not to see the glimmer of her tears as I nodded in return.  “Oh, I’ll definitely take care of him, don’t worry.”  

 

Skye’s eyes widened. “Wow. Okay. That’s burned in my brain now. Not sure I wanted to know that, but, you go A.C. You really should tap that ...”

 

“Skye,” Phil warned. 

 

“Right. Going now.  Thank you Mr. Mysterious No Name Handsome Dude for making my day.  Seriously.” She offered her hand; I shook it. Then she did the same with Natasha before she left, closing the door behind her. 

 

“Your network insider, I take it,” Natasha said.  “The good ones are always so young.” 

 

“My theory is they have the most flexible minds so the ins-and-outs of the ever-changing net make sense to them.”  Phil stood. “She is the best; there’ll be no trace of any of us by the time she’s done.”

 

“So is this the point where I ask what the plan is?” I mean, come on, Phil had to have at least one.  Probably more. I’m a seat of the pants type, tend to go with instinct, but I can appreciate an organized soul. Opposites attract, right?  Mostly, I wanted to hear how they were going to dance around the obvious; I may not be the smartest guy in the galaxy, but I ain’t dumb either. No coincidences indeed.  “Or should I keep pretending that Bruce isn’t part of this?” 

 

“Told you he was smart.” Natasha grinned my way. 

 

“Aw, stop.”  I grinned back; always nice to have my ego stroked. “I mean, I don’t want to know what the package is ‘cause that’s above my pay grade, but Bruce was there for a meet at the pub, so we can drop that part of the subterfuge.” 

 

“Smart, indeed,” Phil said. “Alright, our main goal is to get ahead of all the interested parties.  First, we need to get word to Bruce then navigate the port to find a way off-world without leaving a trail for them to track.  Our options are limited now that Blonsky knows what you both look like.”

 

“So we send someone else.” I shrugged; the answer was obvious. “I know a guy; he’ll not only get Bruce but his friend also has a ship, so getaway problem solved.” 

 

“Anyone who helps us will be putting themselves in the line of fire,” Phil warned.  “Willinno owns a majority holding in the port and the biggest mining company here; they have access to all the records …” 

 

“Yeah, pretty sure they’ll be looking for the wrong person.”  I chuckled at the thought of how happy Bucky would be to set the Alliance on Rumlow and Batroc’s tails. “These guys are used to flying under the grid.” 

 

Natasha nodded to Phil; he relaxed, tension bleeding from his shoulders. “Clint’s right, it’s better than splitting up and trying to reconnect. For the right money, they might even take us where we need to go.”  

 

Phil was calculating, his fingers tapping on his very sexy thigh.  Hey, I wasn’t done replaying that strut from earlier, not by a long shot.  

 

“I estimate we’ve got no more than three hours to get off the grid; if they haven’t found us by second sundown, they’ll lock down the port -- probably use the poor network as an excuse, say it’s overloaded since that’s happened before. Bbetween the three of us, and with a little help from your friends, I think we can do this. I have to stay underground; too many people know my face, so you two get your friends onboard, send them after Bruce, and get him safely to the transport. Here.” 

 

He dug something out of the pocket of one of the packs Skye had left. Opening his palm, he offered us two small silver dots.  

 

“Facial distortion units?”  Natasha took one and passed the other to me.  “I thought these were still in development.” 

 

“These are prototypes; Skye tweaked the programming and Mack extended the batteries.  Still only good for an hour or two and they won’t fool cameras, but they’ll work for passing unnoticed on the street. Use these in an emergency; they don’t have much of a range, unfortunately.” 

 

This time he gave us mini-earbuds, so small they would be almost impossible to see.  I turned the flesh colored blip over and Stark Industries logo stamped on the bottom; somebody had an in with S.I.’s research and development it seemed. 

 

“Emergency fallback’s at docking bay eight; look for Captain Batroc and the Leaping Legionnaire,” Natasha said. 

 

“Batroc? As in Georges Batroc?” Phil’s eyes widened.  “There’s no way he’s going to help.” 

 

“Exactly.”  I winked. “That’s why it’s the perfect cover.” 

 

Natasha and I split up; she went to the docking bay, and I peeled off at the street just beyond the port’s main entrance, the one with all the bars and restaurants where crews hung out.  Steve didn’t strike me as the whore house kind of guy, more the type who didn’t go too far from his ship. Bucky would be likely to hoist a few in his downtime; with his metal prosthetic, I figured he was the easiest to find and I was right.  Through the window of the sixth place I passed, I saw his messy hair and slim fit jacket perched on a stool at the bar, a beer mug in his hand. There was an open spot next to him, deep enough into the darkened interior to risk tapping the little disc behind my ear to let him get a look at me before I re-engaged. 

 

“Let me guess; you need a favor.”  Bucky turned my way. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with a street scuffle earlier today, would it?” 

 

“Need a ride, that’s for sure.”  News travels fast, especially when you’re trying to avoid drawing the wrong set of eyeballs. “But first, I’d like to hire you for a delivery.” 

 

That got his attention. “You paying? I don’t mess with illegals; no drugs or dirty money.”  

 

“Just an envelope.”  I took the note out of my pocket and laid it on the counter. “All you’ve got to do is pass it along. A hundred credits for twenty minutes and a tram ride.” 

 

“Interesting.  Those weren’t your faces in the pictures, so someone must have gotten an up-close and personal look at your baby blues.  Now call me paranoid, but why would I risk getting Alliance soldiers up in my business for a guy I haven’t even gotten a blow job from?” 

 

“Did I mention I’m a champion deep-throater? ‘Cause I am.”  Now, this was the kind of sexual bartering I could get on board with. Been willing from the beginning where Bucky was concerned, so it was certainly no hardship to offer. “Just think, you can have the best of all worlds.  Cash in your pocket, a couple orgasms, another hand to help on the ship, and, here’s the kicker, you’ll be kicking the Alliance where it hurts.” 

 

He laughed, and his damn eyes sparkled; oh, hell, yes, I was going to see what they looked like when he came. For sure. 

 

“You had me with the offer to help; got crates to be loaded and they’re two-handers.”  

 

He reached for the envelope, but I covered it with my hand.  Popping off the disc, I slipped it in and sealed it closed with a thumbprint.  

 

“The Dyonisiac on Leroy, table at the back. You’ll know him when you see him.”

 

“Him.”  Man was sharp, I’ll give him that. Knew exactly who I was talking about in a heartbeat. “Jesus, Steve collects trouble like he breathes.”

 

“Has you at his back, doesn’t he?”  I grinned as Bucky picked up his glass and drained his beer.  

 

“That he does. That he does.”  Bucky sat the empty on the bar and tossed some credits beside it. “Wandered through Hammer Engines on my way out this morning.  MIght want to see for yourself; I mean, they’re cheap as fuck and I’d kick Steve’s ass if he even thought about buying one, but whatever.”  

 

“Just might do that.” 

 

A place like that would have multiple entrances including one into the port; made bypassing the cameras all that much easier. So I ordered a beer and drank it slowly after Bucky left. When I judged enough time had passed, I left, ducking into the shop next door where I bought a soda, some of those packaged donuts in three different flavors, and a few other sundries to make buying one of the sling bags they sold by the counter seem logical. Easy enough to stop in the facilities, put my pack inside the new bag and switch from my black shirt into the purple one with a white stripe. 

 

For some reason, in all the vids people put a hat and sunglasses on when they wanted to hide; it was idiotic, to think you weren’t going to be recognized that way.  Best way to go unnoticed was to not hide at all; putting away my shades, I used some gel to spike up my hair and ran my kohl liner around my eyes. Then I strolled onto the sidewalk, another tourist stopping to look in windows and gawk at the carvings on the walls, soda in one hand and mini-vid camera in the other. 

 

“Package acquired.” Natasha’s voice sounded in my ear. “On my way.” 

 

Still, I loitered to throw off the scent, just in case, even though I knew I wasn’t being followed. Stopped in one of those kitschy stores with knick-knacks and junky souvenirs; we can venture out into space but people still collect magnets and vid straps and digital snow globes. On Riviera, the globes had the volcano in the center; when shaken, red lights flared on the mountainsides as grey ash spewed up and floated down. Jess would love it; I had it in my hand, heading to the front, before I remembered I could never give it to her.  Didn’t know if I could even send it to her; anything with my name on it probably would be opened and inspected before they tossed it. I sat it back down and went for a cheesy beer opener instead. 

 

Hammer Engines was a pain; a salesperson greeted me as soon as I pushed the door open and dogged my steps throughout.  What was I looking for? Was I interested in new or used? Upgrade or new build? What would it take to get me to buy today?  I flipped the script and turned predator, peppering him with the most obvious bullshit lines I could come up with. Screws and nuts and bolts and thrust … amazing how filthy asking about performance can be.  He didn’t give up -- I’ll give him credit -- but he flushed red to the tips of his ears. Didn’t go too far, I mean, everybody’s got to make a living, but he got the message by the time we reached the parts department, and I was able to slip out the service door without any fuss. 

 

I used to think docking pad were lovely walled areas with storage and privacy doors; that’s what they look like on Danu, anyway. Even the smaller craft were housed in slips that were separated.  Didn’t give much thought to the rules of who could land and who couldn’t; there was only so much space and it made sense to limit its use. For the rest, there were orbiting satellite docking depots for cargo and the off-world transfer station for intakes and exits.  

 

But on a world like Riviera, even the nicest spots were little more than a patch of dirt cleared of anything flammable; only wall was the mud-packed one that divided the city from the ships.  Captains made their own makeshift barriers with crates and cargo, and I used those to dodge along between them, away from the marked walkways and the cameras t until I was close to where Steve’s ship was parked, ramp thankfully extended and the man himself fiddling with an instrument panel.

 

I dropped the bag behind a crate  and donned my shades again. Much as I hate having a part, I flattened my hair into the most unflattering style I could think of.  Picking up one of the smaller pieces, I walked confidently towards the ramp. 

 

“Where are we putting these?”  I asked. 

 

“Back by the milled parts, under the stairs.”  Steve didn’t blink; Bucky must have warned him we were coming.  

 

Not only was he expecting us, but Steve had left some clean clothes on the stairs, a couple hats -- seems he subscribed to the caps and shades school -- and a selection of quick hair changes, the kind they sold for party use. Vibrant purple called my name, but I went with Cedar Brown instead. 

 

“When you’re done, give me a hand with this,” Steve called up the ramp. He handed me a spanner when I came out. “Need you to hold that tight so I can recouple the line.” Despite his wide shoulders, Steve’s fingers were long and slender, deftly connecting two ends together.  “There, that should work. I think.” 

 

“Don’t look at me; I don’t have a clue what you’re doing.”  

 

“Trying to get life support back to the crew quarters; going to need the space at the rate we’re going.”  He dropped the tools back in the case. “With just Buck and me, we didn’t bother when it stopped working, just shut the section off.” 

 

I thought back to my exploration; that explained the bulkhead door I’d seen. “So we don’t have to sleep on top of each other? I kind of like the close quarters.” 

 

“I’m sure Buck’ll let you share.” Steve wiped his hands on his shirt, leaving grease stains. “Come on, let’s get loading or I’ll never hear the end of his bitching about me not pulling my weight.”

 

“Hey, you know you just gotta say the word and I’ll back off.”  I picked up my end of the bigger crate and huffed as the weight pulled at my arms. “Flirting’s one thing; breaking up a perfect couple’s not on my agenda.” 

 

“Perfect couple?”  When Steve laughed, he tossed his head back and slapped his chest with one hand.  Didn’t break a sweat as he one-handed the crate up the ramp. “Oh, God, that’s good. I can’t wait to tell Buck you think we’re … oh, fuck me, that’s hysterical. We’d kill each other; as it is, he wants to roast me over the coals at least once a week. No, you’d be doing me a favor, actually; longer Bucky goes without getting laid, the pricklier he gets.”

 

I waited until his hands were free to reply. “And what about you? When’s the last time someone tapped that magnificent ass?” 

 

He laughed until he was dragging in long breaths.  “Too long,” he finally. “Too damn long, that’s for sure.” 

 

“We working here or making bad porno?”  Natasha asked. Dressed in baggy pants and shirt, she had short black hair, a soft cap, and looked for the world like a teenage boy.  If she hadn’t spoken, I’m not sure I would have recognized her without a second and third glance. 

 

“That’s just spooky,” I told her. “You’re doing it just to fuck with us.” 

 

“Better than sex.” She winked. “Rogers jumped a full foot off the ground.” 

 

“I did not,” he protested. “You surprised me, that’s all.” 

 

We fell into an easy banter as we worked, sexual innuendo growing more and more outrageous as we loaded the ship and tied things down to avoid shifting. Bucky appeared when there were only three crates left; in his wake followed Bruce, the distortion field elongating his face and lightening his hair.  He slipped into the ship without looking at any of us, hunched shoulders and tension running through his whole body.  

 

“Going to start the pre-flight,” Steve said as we got the last one in place. “Get clearances going with control so we’ll be ready when they sign off. Batten everything down for go.” 

 

I’d dumped my pack just inside the ramp; I picked it up and took it to sleeping quarters.  Bruce was curled up in a chair in the common room, arms wrapped around his bent knees; I stopped on my way back. 

 

“Want to share a meditation time after liftoff?”  

 

Took a few seconds for him to answer; I could see the struggle to speak, the bleeding in of Bruce into what had been a vacant stare.  

 

“Yeah, I’d …” He cleared his throat and flicked his eyes up. “I’d like that.” 

 

“It’s a date,” I promised. “And after, the sex.” 

 

The tiniest uptick of one corner of his lips was my reward. “Maybe. Not sure I’m … maybe.” 

 

“Whatever you want; offer’s always open. Won’t be offended if you say no.”  

 

“Thanks,” Bruce said. 

 

I left him to himself ‘cause I know how that is; when shit gets too much, sometimes the best thing to do is find a quiet place and curl up for a few hours or days, get my brain to stop spinning and my heart to slow down.  Usually best done alone, at least in my experience; besides, Bruce wouldn’t be able to truly rest until we’d left this dustball behind. 

 

Bucky’s arm blocked the way, his finger to his lips; I stilled and heard the voices floating up from outside. 

 

“... your Captain? Georges Batroc?”  

 

Good freakin’ hell, that was Blonsky. If he boarded the ship … 

 

“Captain’s not ‘ere; ‘e’s in town, doin’ business.”  Natasha pitched her voice two octaves lower, adding a tremble on the edges of the words.  “If you want passage, I’ll tell you what I told the others. We got a bad coolant valve and ain’t got room for nobody else.”

 

“Others? What others?” 

 

I tapped the comm in my ear to warn Phil, but Bucky shook his head. 

 

“Just some joes wantin’ a ride off. Get ‘em every planet but Batroc don’t take to strangers in his space.”  

 

“That sounds like Georges.”  Well, shit, Blonsky knew this Batroc character. “Describe them for me and I’ll give you something for your trouble.” 

 

“A redhead woman and a blonde guy; she was … if you know what I mean. All in black like some of those for-hires always around.  An older dude, almost bald, big suitcases, probably a salesman. Another man, fat and wide, all squirrelly, givin’ me the creepy eyes. Don’t trust that type; I know what ‘e wants.  And two normal joes, needing a ride to that big trade show.” 

 

“What did they look like?” 

 

“Normal, like I said. Brown hair, medium height, not too rich, not too flashy, just … normal.”  

 

“That’s them. The first were the guards, the others Coulson and Banner.”  Blonsky must be talking to his men. “How long ago were they here and where did they go? The redhead and those last two?” 

 

“Redhead maybe two hours? ‘efore the Inspector came round with the paperwork.  The others were here maybe twenty, thirty minutes. I sent ‘em on, told ‘em to get lost; didn’t see where they went but they were still looking.” 

 

“Fan out, focus on the smaller ships; start at the furthermost pads and pay attention to any registrations that appear suspect.  They’ll look for someone willing to skirt the law.” Blonsky’s voice began to fade.  

 

“Hey, what about my money!” Natasha shouted. “You promised.”

 

“I’m not arresting you; that’s your reward.”  

 

When we heard the steps on the ramp, Bucky finally moved. 

 

“Coulson?” I broadcast over the comm. “You there?” 

 

Static answered my question. 

 

“We need to get out of here,” Bucky said. “The Batroc thing won’t hold long; someone’s seen us going in and out.” 

 

“We can’t leave Phil,” Bruce said from behind me. 

 

“He’d be the first to tell us to go.” Natasha was on the ramp, surveying the area. “He can make his own way.” 

 

“Coulson?” I tried again. 

 

“Ground control’s on the way,” Steve announced from the walkway. “Buckle up.” 

 

“We can’t …” Bruce rubbed his temples. “I can’t do this to him; he’s risked so much already to help me.” 

 

Static cleared. “... seventeen oh four checking in with ship I.d. 443284592 …” 

 

“Come again?” 

 

“... prepared and ready to …” 

 

The comm cut out with a feedback squeal; I yanked it out and turned it off. 

 

“Damn it, I had him there for a …” 

 

“... signature here on these forms and we’ll get you on your way.”  

 

Stained coveralls, ear protectors hanging around his neck, battered goggles, a hard hat over his head, Phil had a pack on his back and a bag over his shoulder. He handed Bucky a tablet; he scrawled something on the screen and Phil poked at it a few more times. 

 

“And that’s all the port needs. We are good to go.”  

 

Bucky closed the ramp and we scattered, strapping in. 

 

“Punch it, Stevie!” Bucky called once we were all settled. 

 

The ship lurched; something clanged and metal ground against metal for two heartbeats. Then we surged up and into the atmosphere, g-forces pushing us down until we left the confines of Riviera's gravity behind and jumped into the quiet lull of hyperspace. 

 

“Thought you weren’t going to make it,” Natasha said as soon as she was out of her seat. 

 

“Had to make an extra stop,” Phil replied. “Did Bruce …” 

 

“I’m here.”  Bruce exhaled slowly. “And not in an Alliance cell, thanks to all of you.” 

 

“Yeah, well, screwing the Alliance is always number one of our to-do list, right Steve?”  Bucky turned as Rogers came out of the cockpit. 

 

“Captain Rogers?”  Phil’s eyes widened in surprise.  “Of the Howling Commandos, hero of the Rebellion?” 

 

“Um … yeah, but I mostly go by Steve these days.”  Rogers blushed, cheeks reddening. “Do I know you?” 

 

“Phil Coulson.”  Phil offered his hand. “What you did at Barneo, that was true courage.”

 

“That was stupidity at its finest,” Bucky injected. “Steve never meet an impossible challenge he didn’t run headlong into.”

 

“Don’t start Buck,”  Steve objected. “Not everyone’s a skeptic like you.” 

 

“You’re James Barnes?”  Phil’s smile got even wider. God, he was cute as fuck, like a kid with his first piece of candy. Damn, I wanted him to lick me like candy. “I’ve read about all about you both, your pursuit of justice for the colonies.”

 

“You were a bluecoat?  Who did you serve with?” Steve asked. 

 

Phil’s face shuttered, pleasure dimmed.  “I was Alliance; joined right out of school, thought I was doing the right thing. Took too long to realize how far the rot went and too many good people were hurt.”

 

“Not every Alliance soldier was a bad guy.” It was Bucky who slapped Phil on the shoulder. “Most bought the line the government was selling; fact you can admit they were wrong goes a long way onboard our ship.” 

 

“Thank you.”  Phil’s smile crept back. “I can’t believe I’m flying under Steve Rogers.” 

 

I snorted because, yeah, I’m an immature little shit; Phil’s ears pinked. 

 

“I mean, Captain Rogers is giving me a ride …” 

 

Bucky chuckled at that one; Steve took pity on Phil and tried to help. 

 

“So what’s the heading, Phil?” 

 

Bucky and I burst out laughing. 

 

“Children.” Natasha sighed then ignored us. “Any chance you could take us to Callisto?” 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's Skye, aka, Daisy Johnson taking her bow here. 
> 
> *Hides head* Well, if I had to get all the logistics and set-up finally out of the way, might as well have fun doing it, right? *peeks at the comments*
> 
> There is so much sex coming. Clint's either going to fuck everyone and/or explode. Well, not everyone. You'll see.
> 
> Callisto? What's on Callisto .... or maybe WHO'S on Callisto?


	14. Inter-Chapter #7:  “Let Him Kiss Me with Her Mouth:” The Teachings of Malachy of Armagh.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from “Let Him Kiss Me with Her Mouth:” The Teachings of Malachy of Armagh. Armagh Monastic Press, 2970.

**Excerpt from _“Let Him Kiss Me with Her Mouth:” The Teachings of Malachy of Armagh_.  Armagh Monastic Press, 2970.**

 

 

 

 

“God is a Hedonist at heart,” wrote a famous Original Prime apologist, giving voice to a truth long denied in Church teachings. “All those fasts and vigils and stakes and crosses are only a facade. Or only like foam on the seashore. Out at sea, out in His sea, there is pleasure, and more pleasure. He makes no secret of it; at His right hand are ‘pleasures forevermore’.”[1] 

 

Saints and mystics often describe their experiences of God in sexual terms.  St. Teresa claims an angel’s arrow left her “all on fire with the love of God,”[2] while Father John Donne, poet and priest, begs God to ravish him that he might be whole.[3] The Twelfth Sensai of the Danuean Temple of Pleasure and Pity famously preached a whole sermon series on the genitalia, marking each as parts of the Kingdom of God, “treasures of immeasurable store, gateways to the bliss that is holy.”  

 

The body is not absent in our pursuit of the divine; no, in fact, the body is the beginning, the grounded center upon which we balance as we reach beyond to the music of the heavens.  In the giving of flesh, the touch of another, we encounter the very beginning of our spiritual journey.  It is in the darkened recesses, the enclosed wonder of bodily organs and the complex system of humanity, where our Lord dwells in all his myriad forms, his infinite diversity.  We are the body, as a whole, not separate, and, thus are meant to be joined, filled, and completed …

 

First, we must engage in radical thinking about the nature of the mouth, specifically the kiss. For, as John tells us in the first line of his Gospel, in the beginning, was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.[4]  It is from our lips that we speak the Word and into our mouths that we take in all that is sacred.  What, then, is a kiss but a sacrament, a holy union where we need not speak to share the Word?  It is my beloved St. Bernard once said,

The mouth that kisses signifies the Word who assumes human nature; the nature assumed receives the kiss; the kiss, however, that takes its being both from the giver and the receiver, is a person that is formed by both, none other than "the one mediator between God and mankind, himself a man, Christ Jesus." It is for this reason that none of the saints dared say: "Let him kiss me with his mouth," but rather, "with the kiss of his mouth." In this way, they paid tribute to that prerogative of Christ, on whom uniquely and in one sole instance the mouth of the word was pressed, that moment when the fullness of the divinity yielded itself to him as the life of his body. A fertile kiss, therefore, a marvel of stupendous self-abasement that is not a mere pressing of mouth upon mouth; it is the uniting with man. Normally the touch of lip on lip is the sign of the loving embrace of hearts, but this conjoining of natures brings together the human and divine, shows God reconciling od "to himself all things, whether on earth or in heaven.'' "For he is the peace between us, and has made the two into one.'' This was the kiss for which just men yearned under the old dispensation, foreseeing as they did that in him they would "find happiness and a crown of rejoicing," because in him were hidden "all the jewels of wisdom and knowledge.' Hence their longing to taste that fullness of his.[5] 

 

 

 

[1] After extensive research, I believe this quote comes from one of the lost works of C. S. Lewis. 

[2] Both the statue, the Ecstasy of St. Teresa, by Bernini, and the mystical vision of St. Teresa of Avila upon which it’s based is lost to time, but images of [it exist](https://live.staticflickr.com/4077/4806411855_2eb1428bb3_b.jpg).

[3] [“Batter My Heart, Three Personned God,”](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44106/holy-sonnets-batter-my-heart-three-persond-god) a holy sonnet by John Donne. The Armagh Monastery is to thank for reviving interest in Donne’s work and disseminating copies of his poems and sermons in the 28th century.

[4] John 1:1-3.  New New Revised James Standard Compilation of the Holy Bible.

[5] St. Bernard of Clairvaux, _Sermons on The Song of Songs_. This excerpt appears to be from a part of sermon three; the Exeter Manuscript is missing sections of the text and maybe misnumbered. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a quote from The Screwtape Letters from C. S. Lewis. Screwtape, a demon, is talking to his colleague Wormtongue about how everything ... eating, drinking, brushing teeth, making love ... comes from God and, thus, the only way the devil can get a foothold is to make people believe sex is dirty instead of a blessed act. :)
> 
> St. Teresa of Avila and St. John of the Cross are medieval mystics. I teach a whole section on medieval mysticism in my Brit Lit class.
> 
> And John Donne, of course. If you've never read the very sexual, very violent, very holy sonnet, click on the link above. 
> 
> St. Bernard of Clairvaux did write 20 sermons on sexuality and the Song of Solomon. He was also the long-time lover of Malachy of Armagh; they lived in the same monastery in the late 12th, early 13th century and, by all accounts, were deeply committed. There's a number of really good books about the two of them out there if you want to learn more.


	15. Chapter 7: Let's Get It On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint does some meditating, sparring, yoga, and helps Bucky with his problem.

“I didn’t realize this was here.”  Bruce looked around the small med bay, sliding out drawers and opening cabinet doors.  “Pretty well stocked for a small ship.”

“Don’t think it gets much use. Plus it’s right next to the boarded-up crew’s quarters, so no one comes this way.”

“I heard Barnes complaining about an air leak and a failed compressor? Sounds like they won’t be opening those up anytime soon.” 

Nervous fingers tapped on the countertop, Bruce’s tension still running high despite successfully slipping away from his pursuers. What he needed was some quiet, a commodity hard to come by on The Artful Dodger. Bucky was cursing, banging around in the engine area; Steve was in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as they shouted instructions back and forth to each other.  Natasha had made herself scarce, I hadn’t seen Phil since he disappeared into the sleeping room an hour ago, and I wondered for the third time if he was jerking off to the thought of the good Captain. More than a little hero worship going on there and I can’t say I blamed him.

“Going to be tight quarters for the haul, it seems. That exam table might start looking real good by the third day.”  I closed the distance between us. “At least it’s a good space for a little meditation.”

“Meditation?”  Bruce chuckled as I backed him against the counter. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Kundalini breathing is pretty damn amazing. There’s a lot more to an orgasm than a quick handjob.”  I leaned in until my breath stirred the curls above his ear. “Let me show you.”

“Only if I get to reciprocate this time.  That’s how it works, right? Give and take, we both get off?” 

I could feel Bruce trembling; even though we weren’t touching, his tension bled from him, charging the air around us. 

“If you want.”  I lifted a hand and slipped my fingers along his jaw, burying them into his hair and gently tugging his head forward until our foreheads were touching.  “Let’s start simple, shall we? Breathe with me. In for four, out for four.” It took five long breaths before the first shudder rippled through Bruce. “Don’t think; let the thoughts drain from your head into your heart.”  I pressed my palm over the chakra point in the center of his chest and waited until his exhale steadied. “Good, that’s good. Now focus on your gut.” I kept my fingers spread, rested my hand lower, applied just a little pressure. “This is where your power comes from, what keeps you centered. Bring it up, let it stabilize you, remind you that you’re strong.” I knew when he began to drop into the right headspace when heart, head, and gut came into balance. “Now, I want you to squeeze.  I cupped his ass. “Tighten up on the inhale; release on the exhale.” It was a testament to Bruce’s previous training that he didn’t jump; instead, my fingertips felt his ass clench as he did as asked. “Focus on the muscles and pull your gut in, work up.” My thumbs curled over his hips and migrated to the pressure point where hip met thigh in the vee between his legs. “PIcture a snake wrapped around the base of your spine, waking up, stirring with each breath.” 

“You too.”  Bruce’s hands moved to mirror mine, dragging along my growing erection.  “Together.”

A few more breaths and I unbuckled Bruce’s pants, easing them down on exhales and stroking the revealed skin on the inhales. I drew a thinskin from my pocket and slipped another into Bruce’s palm.

“Imagine the snake winding up your spine, a knob at a time.” 

Bruce mirrored my movements, his fingers more tentative in their touches.

“Pull up from your gut and tighten your muscles; gather all your tension into the sinewy coils.”  I brushed aside the wiry hairs and circled the flushed head with the lightest of caresses. “Let it slither along the curves.”  Down and back, a tickle at the base, a quick pressure behind his balls then back to the tip. “Slither, such a sinuous word. Sliding over muscle, undulating as it climbs.” 

“Oh, that’s …”  Bruce mimicked my actions, pausing when my breathing hitched as he squeezed my balls ever so gently. “I’m going to …”

“Not yet.”  I circled the base of his cock, held close. “A few more breaths.”

Closed eyes, chests rising and falling, I staved off the inevitable until Bruce’s heartbeat resonated in the palm of my hand. 

“Now imagine the snake stopping at the base of your skull, waiting, full and ripe.”  Bruce moaned and his fist circled around my cock. “Absorbing all the thoughts in your head, the worries, swallowing them whole.”  His hand jerked and I saw stars behind my eyelids, just as affected as he was; I gave myself over to the desires that drove me, doubt running through the cracks in my brain, gone beneath the delicious strain of holding back. 

“Are you ready?”  I murmured.

“God, yes.” 

So easy to tilt my head no more than an inch and bring our lips together, to skim the tender skin with one then two kisses. 

“Yours and mine. Converged.” 

I canted my hips, brought our cocks in alignment, wrapped a hand around them.

“Like to like. Entwined.”

The third kiss was harder, catching his bottom lip and rolling it between mine.

“Power joined with power. Exponential.”

Thrust up and back, rocking until Bruce fell into the rhythm.

“Breath mingled with breath. In unison”

His lips parted for me and I swiped my tongue along the row of his teeth.

“To couple.”

His hands gripped my ass and pulled me closer.

 

“To unify.”

The pressure built until only the impending climax remained.

“To come together.”

Bruce threw his head back as his whole body spasmed with his orgasm; I staved mine off until he was limp, leaning against me, head on my shoulder.  Then I loosed my focused energy, unspooling the tension and draining it away as I came.

“Oh, good Lord in heaven,”  Bruce mumbled the words against my neck. “I will never look at meditation the same.”

My chuckle rumbled in my chest then he was laughing too, all boneless and relaxed in my arms. 

“Bet you can achieve transcendent bliss pretty easily now.” 

“You know, I think I could.”  Bruce lifted his head, soft smile on his face. “I might give it a try. If you don’t mind …”

“Always glad to lend a hand.”  I disentangled myself and made use of the pack of medical cleansing wipes to put us back together. “I’ll run interference; take as long as you like.” 

I kissed him one more time just for good measure before I eased out of the room; he settled into a lotus position on the floor. Just around the corner in the cargo bay, I ran into Phil.

“Bruce, is he …”  Phil asked.

“Meditating,” I answered, not looking at his face. Didn’t want to see that look, the one that judged me for having sex and enjoying myself. Really, really hoped Coulson was a better man than that.

“Good. Calm is important for him.”

I jerked my eyes up; Phil gave me a nod.

“Yeah. Calm.”  Excellent language skills, that’s me. “I’m gonna … shower … sleep …”

“Room’s free; have at.” 

One thing I’m really good at is ignoring what I didn’t want to think about and Phil’s slap on the shoulder as I left was right up there with whatever tangled web tied Bruce and Natasha and Phil together. Had the flight time to deal with all of that; tomorrow would be soon enough.  

 

After a quick clean, I dropped on a lower bunk, sprawled out on my stomach and didn’t bother to set an alarm. Natasha dragged me to the hold as soon as I’d finished my breakfast protein bar and proceeded to whip my ass until I was a sweaty mess, but I got my revenge by walking her through some stretches. Bruce joined us; he was content to stick with the basic forms while Natasha tried the more advanced versions.  She did pretty damn good – woman’s flexible as hell – but it was nice to be better than her at something. Hang around her long enough, I might get a complex.

Just as we were finishing up, all three sprawled in corpse pose as we cooled down, Steve came out of the engine room, looking over his shoulder and shouting behind him.

“… whole day out of our way and you can’t promise me you can find what you need …”

“It’s better than the alternative.”  Bucky stopped in the doorway, his eyes flashing with anger. “I know you’ve seen the bodies from implosive combustion. Ain’t pretty and I don’t wanna go out like that.”

“We can make it to Proxima with the patch,” Steve argued.  “I really don’t want to set down at Carson’s Corners …”

“Because of Sharon? Jesus, that was three years ago, Steve.  You’re going to have to suck it up because we need a new compressor or we’re all going to be breathing space.  She’s our best bet at getting a retrofitted one that we can afford.”

“Fine.”  Steve hunched his shoulders, clearly not happy with the decision. “I’ll change course, but you have to contact her.  Last time I tried, she wouldn’t pick up.”

“Fine.”  Bucky shot back. “Just remember to shift down the auto control before you input the new coordinates. I like my breakfast where it is at the moment – safely digesting in my stomach.”

“One fucking time, Buck. One time,” Steve grumbled. He practically stomped up the stairs. “Gonna hire a real fucking pilot so you won’t bitch all the time.  Take off’s rough, Steve. Don’t forget to engage the strut lock, Steve.”

I bit back a smile; they were so cute when they argued, like an old married couple who’d circled around the same topic so many times before. 

“Hey, Barton!”  Bucky turned those baby blues my way. “How you feel about charming Stevie’s ex-girlfriend into helping us stay spaceworthy?” 

Lines of tension ran across Bucky’s forehead and from the corner of his eyes.  Whatever the problem in the engine, it was definitely worth the effort. Implosive combustion was a real danger with life support air levels met any sort of spark or flame.  Not a way I wanted to go either.

“Sure.”  I sat up.  “Should wait until we’re almost there, like right on her doorstep, so it’s harder for her to turn us away.  She’ll be more likely to help if I can talk to her in person. I’ll need intel on what she likes, aside from big beefy blonde space captains.”

Bucky snorted. “Oh, you have no idea.  Sharon’s aunt was our commanding officer; it gets pretty twisty along the way.  Come help me wrap this valve connection tight enough to keep us flying then I’ll tell you all about it.”

I scooped up my pack and folded away my bow – Natasha had given me a run for my money with her wrist tasers – and followed him.  Today he was wearing a pair of tight chinos that had seen better years with rips at the knees and ground-in grease on the thighs; they cupped his ass very nicely, pulled low by the slim  belt. His shirt had originally had sleeves, but someone had ripped them off, leaving jagged holes that showed the line where prosthetic connected to flesh, an ugly red pucker of skin. Whatever had happened, the doctors hadn’t worried about cosmetics when they’d worked on him; so many Bluecoats didn’t get even a modicum of treatment, just slapdash and quick decisions that changed their lives.  That he’d survived such a traumatic injury was a miracle in and of itself.

“Gonna need three hands and a lot of torque to make this work.”

“How much torque do you want?” I asked as he bent over and slid open a panel; inside I could see gears and rods and other moving parts.

Bucky turned and flashed me a grin. “Oh, I think you’ve got that ass-backward, my friend. You’re the one about to get screwed.” 

“I’m down with that.”  I was, I really was. I was damn near salivating at the thought of being bent over by one James Buchanan Barnes.  “Or up for it, depending upon your preferences.”

“God, I really like you.”  Bucky dug through the open toolbox and came up with a small metal cylinder and a mini-torch.  “Let’s get this thing fixed so I can have my wicked way with you. Here.”

He gave me the torch then beckoned me to watch over his shoulder as he unrolled filament tape, cobweb thin, and began to wrap it around the male end of a threaded rod. Round and round he wound  then he pulled a joint from his pocket and screwed It on the taped up end.

“Hold this and don’t let it turn.”  He guided my hand to the joint; it was about palm width. “Keep your fingers away from the flame and watch your knuckles; the crankshaft will chew them up if you get too close.”  He held out the cylinder for my other hand. “When I tell you, unspool more for me.”

Carefully igniting the torch, he directed the heat to the tape, melting it then pulling away to re-engage the rod; it began to spin and I had to clench hard to keep the part in my hand from rotating too. Then he told me to add more tape, using his prosthetic near the flame to put it in place, and repeated the whole process over and over until the filaments began to harden, sealing the two pieces together.

“I’d have thought that tape was too fragile to hold.”  I’d bet it was supposed to be used on Bucky’s arm, the delicate joints in his fingers.

“Round here, you make do with what you’ve got.  Hell, this whole ship’s held together with spit and twine; I’m amazed every time we get off the ground.”  Bucky tapped my hand; I let go and stepped back so he could shift to the other side, gently lifting the broken part of the rod and beginning the work again.

“Looking pretty good from where I’m standing.”  My eyes got caught by the fall of one long lock of hair, tendril brushing against his cheek.

“Should trade it in for a newer model, but Steve’s the sentimental type. First thing he ever really owned, this ship; it’ll take a lot to get him to leave it behind.”  Bucky’s face softened; might not just be Steve who was emotionally attached. “Really need a crew of about five to run this thing. We’re just muddling through, best we can; we either get an engineer or we’re going to end up space flotsam.”

“Plus a pilot?  I thought you were …”

Bucky laughed. “Oh, nope, no way.  My skills are pretty much shooting and beating people up.  Stevie’s a born leader, grade A captain material, but he crashed a shuttle into a lake twice.  Thank God for auto-pilot and landing tugs.” 

He straightened up and killed the torch; both sides of the rod were now attached to the joint.  “Okay, let’s see if this thing’s going to blow up in our faces now or later.” 

It began to spin; I counted to five and nothing broke or flew apart. “How long you give it?” 

“Two or three days, max.”

“But you told Steve …” 

“It takes an act of God to get Steve to change his mind about things; sometimes I have to nudge him in the right direction.”  Bucky dropped the torch and the tape in the toolbox. “He’d never agree to talk to Sharon if I hadn’t pushed. Biggest God damn hero in the middle of battle, but he tucks tail and runs when it comes to women.”

“And you’re the opposite, am I right?” The tenor of the room changed and I knew this was it; Bucky was about to make his move. “See something you like, go for it, deal the fall out later?”

“Got it on the first try.”  Good gods above, but the man stalked my way, a full-out I’m-going-to-fuck-you-now strut. “Don’t bother me a bit who you’ve been with or who you go to next.”

“Even if that’s Steve?”  I held my ground and he stopped mere inches in front of me. “He did suggest you needed to get laid; pretty sure that was the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Oh, you are more than welcome to take a run at the good Captain.”  Mischief sparkled in his eyes. “But be warned, he’s more likely to receive rather than give; he waxed poetic about Sharon’s variable speed strap-on. Me, on the other hand, I’m going to leave marks if that’s okay.”

“Fingertip bruises, the ultimate parting gift. Use that metal hand to hold me down and I’ll rock your fucking world.” 

 

“Fuck yeah,” Bucky breathed and then he was kissing me, swallowing the needy sound I made as his hands gripped my hips and pulled me in. All lean muscle, tight and taut, tense and anything but timid.  His tongue slipped between my lips and I answered in kind, tasting and teasing. My hands cupped his ass -- and yes, it was as magnificent to touch as to look at -- and I closed my eyes, focusing on the delicious friction of clothes and zippers against sensitive skin. 

 

There’s something to be said for handing over control, giving someone else the keys and enjoying the ride.  Sensai used to drone on about equality of urges, the courtesy of climax; dominants must bend and submissives stand up for themselves. Yeah, yeah, I always got the basics of it, that sex is give and take and no one should be forced to do one or the other, but this wasn’t about being forced; I was absolutely on board with the whole proceedings.  Bucky manhandling me against the engine, stilling me with metal fingers that cradled my head, unbuckling my pants and kicking my legs wider made me so fucking hard that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted to be taken, to be used, to hear Bucky groan in satisfaction, to surrender to what we both desired. 

 

“Jesus, fuck, you feel good.”  Bucky nuzzled my neck, yanking down the collar of my shirt as he sucked in a circle of skin hard enough to bruise before moving an inch to the right and doing it again. “Been too fucking long; I need this.”  

 

I worked my hands into his pants, squeezed his ass, and urged him forward. “Then fucking do it already.  Ain’t gonna break.” 

 

He chuckled and raised his head, so close I could see the crenellations in his blue irises. “You are some kinda wet dream, Barton, all sassy mouth and willing ass. Let’s see just how much you can take.” 

 

He spun me around and I braced my hands on the engine cover as he worked my pants down. Reaching back, I offered him the secondskin I’m palmed before he got my zipper down.  

 

“Don’t have to worry about anything else,” I told him.  “I’m on the protocol.” 

 

“Course you are.”  Bucky sheathed himself in the gossamer-light cover; damn straight I’d taken three boxes of the stuff with me when I left Danu.  Feels like nothing and even keeps the mess to a minimum. “Heard of this but never tried it.” 

 

“Better than barebacking if you use the extra-sensitive.” I tossed him a grin over my shoulder. “Although sometimes I miss come dripping down my …” 

 

A coated finger filled me and Bucky nipped at my ear as he leaned over my back. “Dirty talk, Barton?  Did I tell you how much a filthy mouth turns me on?” 

 

“Words, you mean?”  I gasped as he slid a second finger in, stretching me in all the best ways. “Cause there’s nothing better than licking a perfect hole …” 

 

“Fuck.”  Bucky strangled out the words between groans. “I wanna be inside you, right fucking now.” 

 

“Do it,” I told him.  “Get your dick in gear and fuck me already.” 

 

I spread my legs wider and leaned onto my elbows and then he was pushing in, the burn so fucking good, I thought I might come from the fullness of his cock in my ass. I tensed around him; he cursed but got the message as I bucked against him. He slid back, leaving me hollow for two breaths, then stretching me as he pressed in again.  

 

“God, you’re so tight.”  Bucky paused, shifted his weight and straddled me so he could curl his hips on the next easy thrust. “Feels good.” 

 

“Yeah. Been …” I exhaled and clenched up when he bottomed out then inhaled as he pulled back. “... a while since …”  Next one knocked my breathing off for two counts “... that’s it, like that, harder, faster.” 

 

There’s a time to stop talking and just be in the moment, to focus on the purest of instincts, let it become the whole. The sacral chakra is close to the root and centered in the gut; sexual pleasure is the twin of the sacred and divine, one mirroring the other.  As Bucky’s thrusts rocked me, the buzz of arousal and steady pulse of blood spiraled upwards. Parting and taking him inside opened my body and mind, freed me; strange, but true, that the most physical of acts transforms into one of the headiest rushes of transcendence.  I spun, higher and higher, here but not here, each plunge of his cock pushing towards the unknown. 

 

“Oh, oh, fuck, I …”  My throat closed and my eyes widened as I tettered on the edge. 

 

“Clint.”  

 

So deep, Bucky’s voice a growl in my ear and rumble that reverberated from ear down my spine to the tip of my dick and I was coming, falling into a blinding whiteness I’d never experienced before.  A split second of completeness, soothing comfort then I blinked and felt the metal biting into my palms and the slickness of Bucky pulling out. 

 

“Holy hell, that was …”  

 

“Yeah, it was.” 

 

Bucky chuckled, wrapped an arm around me and dropped a light kiss on the back of my neck; I relaxed into his hold and the moment shifted back into reality. Holy hell, that might have been true transcendent space I’d dropped into; that had never happened to me before. 

 

“I really needed that,” Bucky conceded. “I mean, problems are still here, but … “

 

“... it’s easier to face them when your white count isn’t spilling out your ears,” I agreed. “See, there’s a method to my madness.” 

 

We laughed as we cleaned up and got dressed again. 

 

“So if you do take a swing at Steve,” Bucky waggled his eyebrows, “tell him I’m still in play.  No way I’m letting him stop me from taking another bite.” 

 

“If you want to share me, I’m more than willing.”  

 

That got me a couple more kisses and a rude gesture as I left him to get back to work, his tuneless humming following me down the corridor and out into the cargo bay. 

 

“I talked to Rogers; he’s agreed to set down at Carson’s Corners.”  Phil was sitting on the stairs like he’d been waiting for me. “You and Bucky sort out his problem?” 

 

There was no mistake the hint of a smile at the corner of Phil’s lips.  Yeah, he’d heard some if not all of our little interlude. 

 

“Screwed tight and running smooth.”  I ladened each word with the leftover contentment I was feeling. “Should hold until we get there.” 

 

“Good.” He nodded and stood. “Happy crew, happy flight, that’s what I always say.” 

 

I didn’t even pretend not to ogle his ass as he left.  Acceptance was sexy as hell, what can I say?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, kundalini breathing is a real meditation technique. Read a whole article in the New York Times about how women claim they have an orgasm just from doing the breathing exercises. Interesting, eh? 
> 
> I know, I know, sex with Phil, everyone wants some, but hold your horses. Sex with Phil matters in a way that's different; Clint's going to have to figure out exactly why that is first. 
> 
> They need an engineer and a pilot ... going to pick up one of them at Carson's Corners, and the other is waiting to be found on Callisto. That is, unless the bad guys find them first ...


	16. Inter-Chapter 8:  A Lionheart of Galactic Expansion:  The Rand Corporation IO 1700s series

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From A Lionheart of Galactic Expansion: The Rand Corporation IO 1700s series
> 
> By Rush C. Appfer

From  **A Lionheart of Galactic Expansion:  The Rand Corporation IO 1700s series**

 

By Rush C. Appfer

  
  


Unlike ships produced by Hammer Industries and Boeing Universal, the IO was designed for common needs like short hauls and repetitive take off and landings.  Squat and heavy, the ship’s keel was built along the lines of ancient seafaring vessels with the cargo hold on the bottom for ease of access. The redundancy of systems meant the ship kept flying in less than optimal conditions, and the compatibility with both Acdelco and Good Millenial replacement parts made them widely available at lower prices.  Even with their largest engine available, the IOs lagged significantly behind competitors in speed and power. But in terms of longevity and costs, the IO 1700s were workhorses that earned the respect of many.

 

Rand’s leadership in sustainability lead to the development of the inverted motor, an ingenious design that made it more compact and allowed access while running to almost all the components. The ability to make repairs on-the-fly was invaluable, avoiding costly downtime.  Combined with the simplicity of the mechanism, the IO 1700s were some of the most reliable ships to own. 

 

Because of the tendency of ports to mark ships as either load-bearing (L) or passenger (P), the IO 1700 was known informally as LIOnheart; many believed the corridors that branched off from the upper and lower levels of the hold looked like a lion’s mane. The full crew complement was nine;  the captain and executive officer’s quarters were near the bridge in the bow, three double occupancy cabins were located on the port, along with a space for the engineer next to the main engine compartment. On the aft side were the communal areas, rustic but serviceable, and a room for up to four passengers.  A compact medical bay was better equipped than the ones in larger Boeing Contrails and Hammer Journeymen.  

 

All 1700 models were built from the same design; the primary difference was the cargo capacity. The 1720s were the smallest with a basic kitchen; the V12 was the only engine offered. The 1740s offered a more expansive galley with the option of wet showers in the crew quarters;  the V12 was standard but the V24 was available for an extra fee. The 1780s sacrificed cabin space for the cargo area, but included top of the line appliances and plush fabrics on all seating; the V24 was standard with the high-efficient ionic V52, one of the cleanest engines on the market at the time, as an option.  

 

Data shows that, within fifteen years of their introduction, the IO 1700 held 47% of the market for compact service ships. Whether that number would have risen higher was rendered moot with the untimely deaths of Wendell and Heather Rand in 2843; with Harold Meachum in charge of Rand Industries, they entered into a deal with Hammer Industries to make the IO 1800s.  Quality plummeted and sales fell off dramatically while complaints rose. A government-ordered recall in 2847 signaled the end of production; the last IO 1800 was produced early 2848.  

 

As late at 2943, IO 1700s were still routinely in use in the outer rim and by small shipping companies or private owners.  Morgan Stark flew an IO 1782 Mark 3 during the Kree Invasion, albeit with her own modifications. Over a hundred years after the first LIOnheart rolled off the assembly platform, the ship was part of the daily life of the galaxy. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *laughs at myself* I know NOTHING about ships or design or anything remotely like this. Take it all with a grain of salt, hopefully attached to the side of a margarita. :)
> 
> The Rand Corporation is from Iron Fist; Danny Rand's parents were killed and their partner Harold Meachum took over while Danny was lost (and learning to become the Iron Fist). 
> 
> Had to toss some Justin Hammer crappy products in here!


	17. Chapter 8:  Baby, We were Born to Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clint meets Sharon Carter, learns some tantalizing hints about Phil's past, and gets into a barroom fight again. Oh, and Sam Wilson shows up with his fine chocolatino self. Looks like things are finally starting to fall in place. Maybe. If the ship doesn't explode.

I wandered through the aisles of the small shop, amazed by the variety available on the shelves, all neatly arranged and labeled.  The floor was swept clean, a fan circling lazily above, moving the warm air down and the cool air up. Some of the things were old, really old, like Original Prime old; others were more recent but for obscure and obsolete tech.  Nothing was newer than ten years ago.  

 

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”  

 

The woman at the counter was younger than I expected, hair a golden blonde, held back by a simple black band.  She sized us up in with a gimlet stare that spoke volumes about her training; it was the way she held her body, tense and at the ready, the way she cocked her head, seeing all and missing nothing.  Not straight military, but something close

 

“Are you Sharon Carter? We spoke earlier about a compressor and a drive chain for an IO ‘47.2?”  

 

Taking the lead, I stepped closer, leaving Natasha in my shadow. Today her hair was an obviously dyed black and she was wearing a jumper that would have been right at home in one of those casinos on Fhloston, the kind with watered-down drinks and cheap all you can eat buffets. A pair of oversized cat’s eye frames were the crowning touch of her ensemble.  

 

Sharon tilted her head down, looking over the top of reading glasses I’d bet she didn’t need before slipped them off and dropped them on the counter.  “That wouldn’t happen to be for a specific point two parked on pad twenty-seven? ‘Cause if it is, you can hie yourself right back there and tell the Captain he still owes me 1500 credits for a new air spring for the landing gear and another 800 for a used filtration pump.”

 

I was going to have to change tactics; the hapless messenger wasn’t going to fly. “I’m sure we can come to an amenable arrangement. What’s the estimate on the parts we requested and when could you have them?”

 

A quick blink and I knew I’d thrown her off her game. She’d expected me to protest, maybe even pretend to not know what she was talking about.  “Chain’s easy; got three in stock, 250 each. Now the compressor’s the hard bit; I can get you a perfect replacement in three days at, say, 2500, but no way in hell I’m putting in an order until I see cold hard cash on the table.” 

 

Brushing past me, Natasha spread a handful of credits on the counter, enough to cover Steve’s outstanding debt. “And if we need the compressor today?” 

 

Another long hard look then Carter swept the money up in her hand, tucking it away out of sight. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but if you mean to hurt or swindle Steve, we’re going to have a problem … and I solve problems, understand?” 

 

For two heartbeats, Natasha and Carter stared at each other then Natasha nodded and stepped back. “I have no idea who you’re talking about.  Captain of the ship’s named Montgomery Falsworth.” 

 

“Falsworth. Right. Must be Steve’s turn to pick; Bucky always goes for people he hates and that’s a pretty long list.” She relaxed and tapped on a nearby vid screen.  “Let’s see, I can get you an IO 1823.1 model; a little too big but it can be sized down with webbing. Should work for a couple of years which is probably more than that bucket of bolts will be flying.”  She scrolled down. “Give me three hours and I can have it delivered along with the chain for, say 2500 for both.” 

 

“New or used?” I leaned over and looked at the info. “The 1823 had that milling problem; most of the point ones and point twos were trash.  Rather take that used ‘48 point five; that’s the last year the Rand Corp made them, before the change over. We’ll give you 1500 for both.”

 

Her eyes widened a fraction. “That’s highway robbery; that’s half the ‘48’s value. I couldn’t do it for less than 2300.”

 

“1800.” I leaned an elbow on the counter. “Considering the springs and the filtration pump were only worth 1700 max, assuming they were in their original packaging, which I doubt they were,  you’re still making a healthy profit.” 

 

“Oh, I like you.”  Carter smiled. “You a paying passenger or did Steve finally hire some real crew? I told him it was crazy to run that death trap with just the two of them.” 

 

“New boyfriend,”  Natasha said before I could answer. “They’re constantly going at it on every horizontal surface. Annoying as hell.” 

 

Laughter tumbled out of Carter’s throat; took a few moments for her to compose herself again. “Well, you go, Steve. He’s a good man, maybe too good, and deserves some happiness in his life. God knows he hasn’t had enough of it.” She chuckled again but the sound was mournful on the edges. “I’ll contact the seller, get the ball rolling.  What’s the name of the ship today?” 

 

“The Union Jack,” I supplied. 

 

“Of course it is; Monty would have loved that. He was obsessed with Jolly Old England.” Her smile faded. “Aunt Peggy called bollocks on all that nostalgia for the old country, stiff upper lip, cup o’ tea.  Probably should have listened to her advice a little more often; we all should have.”

 

We finished up our business, Natasha setting up the transfer of funds once the parts were received, then walked down the street, heading for the bar where we were supposed to meet Phil. Carson’s Corners wasn’t big enough to have public transportation; getting anywhere took no more than twenty minutes on foot. A few bikes and trucks trundled along the crushed shell road, bringing in produce and goods from outlying properties, but it was what it was: a crossroad stopover between bigger settlements.  

 

We grabbed a table and opened the menu filled with seafood which, considering 98% of the planet was underwater, didn’t surprise me all that much. Squid fries looked interesting and I wondered out loud if the wet seaweed salad was a cold soup.  

 

“I’m going for the fish and chips.” Natasha tapped the screen, changing it to the beer list. “Might be greasy but you know what you’re getting.”  

 

I decided on the squid fries and a little shell salad sandwich after the waiter assured me the meat was a cross between a shrimp and a langostino.  Even the beer had a slightly fishy taste, probably from the brine in the water supply. It wasn’t bad, per se, just different.  

 

“Sharon’s still in love with Steve,” Natasha announced once we’d ordered. “Did you see how she squinted when I said you were sleeping with him?” 

 

“Nope, guess I missed that tell.”  I was man enough to admit she was much better at reading people than I was, which, honestly, was saying a lot since all Danueans are trained in the art of negotiation. “But, yeah, definitely carrying a torch. She gave us a sweetheart deal, just enough to save face. She’s got it bad for our boy.” 

 

“Then she should have told him Peggy was her aunt before she slept with him.”  A bowl of full of dark brown crinkles was placed on the table; she snatched one and popped it in her mouth. “Some sort of crispy skin, salty, not too bad.”  She tipped it my way. “Try one.” 

 

Earthy like a mushroom but crunchy and light.  Odd aftertaste, but not enough to stop me from taking a handful to munch on. “Peggy as in Margaret Carter, the Bluecoat leader?”

 

“Yep, one and the same.  Steve had a big-time hard-on for his superior officer so imagine his surprise when he bangs a pretty blonde to get over it only to find out said blonde is the beloved niece. Kind of torpedoes the relationship when it starts with a lie.” 

 

“Did Sharon know though? I mean, I don’t go announcing my family tree before I drop my trousers.” 

 

“She did.  Peggy set them up and Sharon knew some of the guys in the Commandos with Steve.”  Natasha shrugged. “And you can’t use yourself as a comparison, Mr. I Want to Have a Relationship With You So Let’s Talk About It. Would it bother you to have sex with a family member of someone you were attracted to?” 

 

I gave it a minute of thought. “Might, actually, depending upon how they’d feel about it and if it was casual on all sides.  If I was in love with the person and it would freak ‘em out, then no, I wouldn’t. But a one-sided pining situation? Yeah, I’d take the willing participant and not care about their family tree.” 

 

“See, that right there is why I like you. You think the situation through; makes it so much easier to act on impulses if you’ve considered the angles.” 

 

“Just like you and this job you’re on?”  I raised the issue I’d been skirting around the last few days. “You and Phil and Bruce and what’s on Callisto?  You’ve prepared for all the possibilities?” 

 

She arched an eyebrow and took another sip of her beer. “Who. Who’s on Callisto.” 

 

I sat back and rearranged the pieces of information I’d gleaned, picture going from one third to halfway in focus. “Ah. A person who wants what Bruce has.  Not the one he was supposed to meet on Varldjord.” 

 

A tiny incline of her head was her answer. 

 

“The military wants it. So does Willinno Tech. The other party?”  I watched the minute shifts in her facial muscles. “A different, unknown group.  Mystery Callisto Contact hired you and you reached out to Phil then brought me on.”  That made sense; the white-haired person who’d tracked Bruce to that bar on Riviera was working for the unknown group. “Okay, one question, and I don’t care what the answer is, just that I get one.  On a scale of Steve Rogers to Thaddeus Ross, where do we fall on the villain scale?” 

 

That earned me a full-blown smile. “Depends on where you put making money on that spectrum.”  

 

“We talking screw the universe, steal and cheat Capitalism, the ‘I’m going to get rich any way I can’ kind, or more ‘make something people are will to buy’?”  

 

“Somewhere between ‘get rich’ and ‘make something’.  If it helps, the thing’s going to help people, but we might have to break some heads to get to it first.” 

 

“Yeah, I can live with that, especially the helping part.  Anything to keep it out of the Alliance or Willinno TEch’s hands. Their track records are complete shit.”  

 

The Williams family, owners of Willinno Tech, had bought the patent for a life-saving device that would easily disintegrate blood clots before they caused strokes then jacked the price up by 400%.  No one could afford it except the ultra-wealthy. Bastards, every damn one of them.Wouldn’t mind watching them lose out on whatever scientific discovery Bruce had cooked up. Yeah, someone as smart as Bruce who studied gamma radiation? Not that hard of a leap to make. 

 

“It’s worse than anyone knows.” Phil pulled out a chair and sat down. “Willinno run black site experimentations for the Alliance, have for years; Barneo was one of their projects.” 

 

“No wonder Bucky hates ‘em.”  I leaned back as the food arrived. “Can’t say I blame him.” 

 

Phil ordered the wet seaweed salad; I offered him one of the golden-brown curly squid fries that overflowed the basket. Whisper thin, the breading cracked as I took a long twist and popped it in my mouth. The meat inside was black as ink and melted on my tongue. 

 

“Oh.”  I picked up another one. “Seriously, take one.” 

 

For a while we ate; my sandwich was juicy, the salad made with a creamy orange condiment mixed with crunchy veggie bits, purple boiled eggs, and buttery bits of meat.  Phil’s came out quickly; it was layers of colorful leaves and stalks with chunks of different seafood, arraigned in an inch of a dark dressing. Natasha’s chips weren’t potatoes; they were starchier and cracked when she broke one in half. 

 

“So, Barnes was at Barneo?” Phil asked as he let me fork up a bite of his salad to taste.  Acidic with just a hint of sweetness. 

 

“Steve thought he was dead; soon as he found out where he was, Steve went and got him.”  I watched Phil’s eyes widen as I spoke.  

 

“Jesus. What they were doing there, it was ... inhuman. And they covered it up, just like so many of the atrocities committed,” Phil said. 

 

“You did what you could.” Natasha put a hand on his forearm. 

 

“It wasn’t enough; damn system was corrupt from the inside out and I didn’t see it until it was too late.” 

 

“I was part of the negotiation team, took Alliance guys around town, just like I was ordered to.  Turned my stomach after I got a look at the documents, realized we had prioritized a settlement over justice for all those people.” I’d never said it out loud, that deep revulsion I still harbored in my gut. “Agreed to seal it all away so no one would ever know.”

 

“It was the only option,” Phil said. “The top brass would never have agreed to end the war any other way. Some didn’t want to do that much; they wanted to hunt the rebels down to the last person.” 

 

“I get that; if I’d been a Bluecoat, I’d probably take the deal too.”  I swallowed the last of my beer. “But we’re supposed to be different, be on the side of justice, use our might for right.  That’s what they teach us as we’re growing up, that a Danuean bargain is fair and equal.”

 

“Fairness, justice … those are just stories we tell our children,” Natasha said. “A good compromise leaves both sides hurting.” 

 

“When enemies make peace, resentment still remains. Someone must risk repaying injury with kindness or hostility will never turn to goodwill. So be wise and give without expecting gratitude.” I could hear my sensei's voice repeating the phrase. “Turn the other cheek or you’ll go on hurting each other until someone dies. But we didn’t; the armistice became the end unto itself, no matter what we had to do to get it signed. Politics, machinations … you don’t know half of it.” 

 

“No one does and we’re unable to build a whole picture. A big jigsaw puzzle with only half the pieces on the board.”  Phil put down his fork. “That’s why we have to make connections, cross boundaries, get people talking to each other, to find out what they know. And maybe, just maybe, if we compile enough of the truth, we can …” 

 

“Phil? Phil Coulson!  I thought that was you.”  The dark-skinned man stopped by the table, slapping a hand on Phil’s shoulder. About my age, he was fit and just this side of lean. “What the hell are you doing in this backwater shithole?  Last I heard you were on Titan, working for …” 

 

“Sam.”  Phil stood and offered the man a hug.  Shuffling chairs, they made room for the newcomer at the table. “I could ask the same of you.  Didn’t you take a job with that freight company? I remember something about benefits and a retirement plan …” 

 

“Aw, hell, that was a mistake.  Six months in and they were shorting my pay for every imaginary slight, being two minutes off an insanely short arrival time or catnapping while waiting for a payload.  No way was I ever gonna make the threshold for full-time, so I quit. Been working freelance ever since; pay’s about the same, but there are fewer rules to follow even if I’ve got a lot of downtime between hauls and have to live out of my pack.”  Sam patted the bag he’d slung over the chair then he glanced around the table and flashed a winning smile that lit up his whole face. “So, Phil, introduce me to these handsome fuckers, would ya’?” 

 

“Sam,  Natalie Rushman and Clint Barton; Natalie and Clint, this is Sam Wilson, an old friend and good pilot,” Phil said. “Beware; Sam’s favorite past time is causing trouble; don’t let him suck you into any of his harebrained schemes.” 

 

“What Phil is trying to say is this fine chocolate chino is the best damn pilot in the galaxy,” Sam interjected. “And I object; that last plan would have worked if it weren’t for the General’s penny pinching on supplies.  Still say a coffee maker in the cockpit would increase efficiency and morale.”

 

“You used up all the wing adhesive sticking the pots to the dash,” Phil replied. “And Cosby nearly burned her hand when hers exploded during take-off.” 

 

“Minor issues; I’d have worked it out.,” Sam said. “But enough about me. You still haven’t told me what you’re up to these days; didn’t you …”

 

First, the glint of metal barely registered then the motion of the hand coming up hit the corner of my eye: I shoved the table hard, pushing myself back and knocking the others off balance as the first laser blasted where Phil’s head had been.  My chair slammed into the person behind me, tipping her forward; I heard a curse then a beefy hand landed on my shoulder and yanked.

 

“What the hell, bro?” Big, burly, and totally pissed off, the woman could bench press me three times over. “Get the fuck off …” 

 

She sagged forward when the shot hit her in the back; I rolled with her as she fell out of her chair, taking us both under the table. Legs appeared -- custom combat boots, too damn expensive for anyone round these parts -- and I jabbed a dart through the dark pants into the meat of his calf, scooting out of the way as the body toppled onto the table and took the whole thing down.  

 

By the time I was clear, pandemonium reigned in the bar.  Patrons scattered, heading for the exits, scrambling over each other in a chaotic mass of arms and legs and bodies. I tried to get up, but a scrawny guy with a long white beard elbowed me in the solar plexus. 

 

“Clint! Behind you.”  Phil’s voice cut through the jumble of sounds; he shoved me back down as a bright white contrail of blaster fire sizzled above me and lanced into Phil.  He grunted, his eyes tightening with pain, then he rolled us under the nearest cover, an overturned table. 

 

“Phil.” My fingers fumbled to find Phil’s wound, spreading across his stomach and chest, coming away red with blood from his left side. I yanked his shirt out of his pants and pulled it up even as he fired his own weapon at the hulking form approaching with a drawn gun.  Damn laser blasts cut deep, often cauterizing the outer edges and leaving internal bleeding; fortunately, the wound was a wide scrape of skin and didn’t go much further. Too bad it was bleeding like the dickens. 

 

“What is going on?”  On my left, Sam ducked a punch from a half-drunk customer. “These guys are trying to kill us and this idiot wants to fight?” 

 

A flicker of blue on my right and Natasha zapped another pair of custom boots then disappeared behind a group of women making a dash for the door.  Too many people, too many directions, too much happening -- I couldn’t get a count or a location on our attackers in the frenzy. The narrow bar meant everyone was funneling through the same small space.  If I could understand the pattern of the motion then I …

 

“Clay makes a pot, but it’s the space within that makes it useful.”  The words rose unbidden in my mind. “The usefulness of what’s there depends upon what is not there.”

 

Phil furrowed his brow in confusion; I must have said that out loud. I winked then closed my eyes and sat back on my heels. Quieting my mind, I listened to feet on the floor, voices bouncing off the walls, material brushing against skin, breaths uneven and trembling, passing over them all, honing in on the pockets of empty, the places where no confusion lay, where stoic determination read as stillness. Four darts in hand, I flicked the first two towards their targets behind me, not worrying about putting bystanders to sleep, then pivoted and hurtled the last two. A groan and a thud sounded for each hit. When I looked, all the assailants were down, the fighting had stopped, and Sam was staring at me. 

 

“Well, fuck,” Sam muttered. “That was some serious woo-woo shit. Who the hell are you?”

 

“Phil’s been hit.” I knew that would waylay any questions that I didn’t have a good answer for.  

 

“We need to get out of here.”  Natasha, pragmatic as always, offered me a hand up; she seemed as unperturbed by my weirdness as always. “Sam, help Phil out the back.”

 

She didn’t give me time to protest that I was closer, just yanked me along after her.  Tossing some credits on the bar, we wove our way through the remaining people; they parted and gaped as we passed. No way we were going to slip out unnoticed.  No one bothered us as we navigated the kitchen, the back alley, and two more streets, and even then I kept a weather eye out for any tails or strange behavior. Only when Natasha banged on a door in another alleyway, and it opened to reveal Sharon Carter, did I notice my hands were shaking. 

 

“Jesus, you guys really are friends of Steve,” she huffed and pulled out a medkit as Phil settled onto a stool in the back room of her store. “That was, what, two hours max, and your faces are already on the vid net; wasn’t that surprised, honestly. Paying for parts for the Dodger and I wasn’t supposed to figure out something was up?”  She glanced at Sam and Phil. “You two I don’t know. I’m Sharon.”  

 

“I’m Sam and this is Phil,” Sam spoke up. “They say you’re the best finder in the business, on this rock and most of the others.  Story is you’re either Alliance Intelligence or a Bluecoat spy.”

 

“I was both.”  She handed Phil a flap of second skin and an antibiotic glaze. 

 

Sam whistled. “A woman who lives dangerously. Be still my heart.” 

 

“If we’re on the net,” Natasha said, “only a matter of time until they track us to the ship. What’s the status on the parts we need?” 

 

“Oh, they’re ready.”  Sharon patted a box sitting on the counter. “I was just yanking Steve’s chain, lengthening the wait. He’s always late.” 

 

“Steve? Who’s Steve?’  Sam asked. 

 

“Our ticket off this planet, assuming we can get to the port.”  Which I highly doubted; place this small, pictures out there … yeah, not going to be easy to cross the town without drawing attention 

 

“How did they know we’re here?” Phil finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it off. “This wasn’t a planned stop.” 

 

I barely kept my mouth closed when I saw a long pucker of scar that ran vertically up Phil’s chest. Clearly an exit wound, the tangle of tissue was pocked with tiny circles where the skin had been tacked back together. The ropey scar pulled as he twisted, muscles tensing when he swiped the blood away and slapped the new skin on.  

 

“That’s the million credit question,” Natasha said. “Either someone’s tracking us or they’ve got contacts at every possible port which means someone’s throwing a shit ton of money around.”

 

That’s when I saw it, high on his back near his left shoulder, abstract black wings with a head between them: [ a phoenix tattoo ](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-XRvwiHh5bGI/VPtfPFSLgRI/AAAAAAAAD0w/iVYXEBzqXL4/s604/Phoenix%2520tattoos%2520designs%2520ideas%2520men%2520women%2520girls%2520guys%2520best%2520%2520%25285%2529.jpg).  Rising from the ashes indeed; stabbed in the back, chest nearly torn in two, and here he was, right in the thick of things?  Damn, Philip Coulson was one badass that could fuck me any day. I might have drooled just a little bit. 

 

“Alliance presence is pretty thin here, one of the reasons I like it. They’d have to scramble to get boots on the ground,” Sharon added. 

 

Of course, he caught me looking; a shadow flitted behind those expressive eyes, no shame or doubt, but a hint of worry. I didn’t flinch, my gaze locking on his then roving over exposed skin and back up to meet his; I smiled, a slow curl of desire that brought a rosy stain to his cheeks.  

 

“Those definitely weren’t Alliance guys; they were too well outfitted. Doubt they were local; I’ve been here a week and there’s not really a market for a high-powered team like that,” Sam said. “Even Phil would have a hard time rustling up a crew, and he’s the best handler out here.” 

 

“Oh, my God.”  Sharon’s eyes widened; she looked at Phil’s scar then at his face. “You’re Phil Coulson. THE Phil Coulson. I didn’t … I mean ... you saved my life at the Hub. If you hadn’t arranged that extraction, we’d have never made it out.” 

 

Phil ducked his head as he slipped his shirt back on.  “No such thing as a no-extraction policy; that was a line of bullshit they used to cover up Garrett’s incompetence. But you can thank my team; they went over and beyond to find a ship and get there.  Mel actually made the landing.”  

 

“It was May behind the wheel?  Always wondered how you got that monster of a spacecraft into that tiny bay.”  Sam offered Phil his jacket; it covered the bloodstains when Phil zipped it up. “Only the Cavalry could manage that feat.” 

 

A bell rang; Sharon glanced at the screen on the wall; two people were entering the store.  

 

She put her finger to her lips. “Stay here; I’ve got an idea how to get you to the port.”

 

The screen had no sound, but I could tell she knew the customers from the easy way she leaned on the counter.  The conversation was short, involving a transaction with a handshake at the end.  

 

“Perfect timing.”  She came through the swinging door, letting it shut securely before she spoke. “They want the shipment immediately and it’s big enough to need the sled. Someone will have to be the driver …” 

 

“I will,” both Sam and Natasha said at the same time. 

 

“They’re not after me,” Sam protested. “And I’m at the port all the time, checking for jobs.” 

 

“Yeah, sorry, but …”Sharon called up a four-way split screen that showed all of them, including Sam, in grainy pictures from the bar. 

 

“Damn it, all I did was say hello,” Sam muttered.  

 

“Natalie will drive,” Phil decided. “Sooner we leave, the better.” 

 

The sled was in a tiny garage in the alley; Sharon raised the sides and added plenty of empty boxes as a screen for Phil and Sam and me.  It wasn’t the most comfortable way to travel over bumpy streets and it certainly wouldn’t pass a close inspection, but Sharon’s reputation should get us in the gate without a second look.  

 

In the ten minutes it took us to get settled, Natasha had changed into a pair of worn and greasy overalls, sleeves and pants rolled up to accommodate her height.  Her hair was brown and short again -- I hadn’t yet figured out how she was changing the length so quickly -- tucked up under a simple grey cap. With a hunch to her shoulders and a pair of old workman’s gloves, she became a he, young but at just the right age to be working odd jobs like delivery.  

 

“Here.”  Sharon handed me the ship parts. “Whatever happens, get these to Steve so he doesn’t blow his fine ass out of the sky.  And tell him to come say hello sometime; I promise not to bite too much.” 

 

She flipped the tarp over us, tying it on the corners to keep it in place, then we were off, rumbling slowly towards our destination. 

 

“So this Steve blew it with her?”  Sam shook his head. “Not sure which is crazier; dating her in the first place or breaking up with her. He must be a glutton for punishment.” 

 

“You have no idea,” Phil said. “Steve is … yeah.” 

 

Crouched down, I balanced my weight as the sled turned a corner.  It wasn’t long until we were at the service gate of the port and, true to her word, Sharon had sent a message ahead, clearing the way for us to trundle inside with only a momentary pause. We came to a stop, and I heard Bucky’s voice calling down the ramp. 

 

“Is that ours?”  He released one side of the tarp and saw us; I waved and blew him a kiss. “Oh, for God’s sake. Get the fuck in the ship before we all get tossed in the nearest prison.” 

 

We darted from the sled onto the ramp; Natasha had angled it perfectly to hide from prying eyes.   When Natasha drove off to deliver the rest of the load to the buyers only a few bays away, Bucky cornered us. 

 

“What the ever-loving fuck?” he asked. “Your faces are all over the fucking place.” 

 

“Seems the third party is more competent than I thought,” Phil admitted.  “I’ll have to recalibrate the plans now that we’ve encountered them face-to-face.” 

 

“Tell me you got the parts at least, or this is going to be a short trip,” Bucky said. 

 

I handed him the box. “Sharon didn’t have the exact compressor but she said you could make this one work.”  

 

“Yeah, I’ll get it …” A crash and Bucky’s head spun around; a laser blast bounced off the cargo bay wall.  He jammed the box back in my hands and headed for the control panel. “Steve! We are leaving!”  

 

I passed the box to Phil and got my bow out; a hard shake and the limbs extended. Vaulting over the edge of the railing, I landed beside Bucky, firing an arrow at the first pair of dark boots I could see. 

 

“We have to wait on …” 

 

Natasha dashed up the ramp, shooting behind her. “Close the blast doors!” 

 

Two more arrows and the door folded, engaging the pressured seal.  Before we reached the fourth stair, the ship shook and lurched to the left, a stream of gas venting into the bay. 

 

“Damn it.”  Bucky cursed, long legs making quick work getting to the bridge.  “Port thrust blew; back off the gas, Steve, or we’ll lose the pistons too.”  

 

“I can’t get enough lift without it.” Steve flipped switches frantically, straining to get the ship off the ground. “Auto is fried and not responding. We’re tilting.” 

 

“Jesus, fine, let me just …”  Bucky jumped over the co-pilot chair and began wrestling with the controls. “Maybe if we bypass the ruined conduits we can get enough power ...”  

 

“Let it yaw.”  Sam pushed past me. “The gravity well will compensate after 90 degrees and the starboard will be the stern.  You can offset the rest by venting atmo a few seconds at a time until we’re clear of the gravity line.” 

 

“You want to flip us?” Bucky glared over his shoulder.  “Who is this crazy fucker?” 

 

“It’ll work; I’ve done it before.”  Sam planted his hands on his hips and stared Bucky down. “We don’t have time for this. Those guys out there hit something vital and we’re dead in the water.” 

 

“No way I’m gonna …”  

 

Steve cut Bucky off by standing up. “Get us the hell out of here.” 

 

Sam was in the seat in seconds, hands flying over the controls. “Hold on and buckle in, this is now an e-attraction ride.” 

 

The whole ship rolled to the right; I got a hand on a console and held tight as the wall became the floor. Steve used his arms to stay in position between Sam and Bucky;  Phil wrapped around a passenger seat and Natasha latched onto the door handle.  

 

“Here we go.”  Sam punched it, and we lifted off sideways, blowing straight up, ignoring the port’s flight pattern.  My heart lodged in my throat, thumping to beat the band until the g-force lessened as we passed out of the planet’s grasp.  Then Sam turned us upright and grinned over his shoulder at us all. “Now that was fun!” 

 

“You’re one crazy bastard,” I told him. “That was insane flying.” 

 

“Nothing a little smooth chocolate can’t fix.” Sam practically preened. “Sam Wilson, pilot extraordinaire at your service. Impossible feats at least once a day.” 

 

“Well, you said you needed a pilot,” Phil said, wincing as he stood up. “And I aim to please.” 

 

“You’re hired.” Steve held out his hand. “Anyone who can fly like that is welcome on my ship.” 

 

“Our ship,” Bucky corrected, “and I get a say in who we bring on board.”

 

“You’re just hot ‘cause he was right,” Steve said. “Come on, Buck, neither of us can fly worth shit.” 

 

“That’s not the point,” Bucky insisted. “The point is that you, Steve Rogers, are too damn trusting and look where that’s gotten us:  a busted up ship and a bunch of people trying to kill us.” 

 

“Same shit, different day.” Steve shrugged. “And you know how whiny you get when nothing’s happening.  What’s that you always say? It’s not a good day if no one shoots at you.” 

 

Bucky sighed, loud and exaggerated. “I have lost control of my life.” 

 

“Dude, control is over-rated.” Sam turned back to the console. “Me, I’m a take it as it comes kind of guy, let someone else deal with the details, you know what I mean? Like the coordinates for our jump to wherever you guys are going.  Anyone wanna spill?” 

 

No way I missed the assessing look Bucky shot at the other man. Now those two were an interesting proposition; I let myself imagine dark and light skin entwined with my own freckled half-tan self in the mix and, let me say, damn, hell yes. Things were getting a whole hell of a lot more interesting, and I, for one, was excited to see what happened next.  

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The two quotes Clint "hears" from his sensai are from the Tao Te Ching by Lao Tzu. The first is chapter 79, the second chapter 11 (one of my personal faves). Remember, Danueans are the best fighters in the galaxy for a reason ...
> 
> Some name dropping here with Melinda May and Phil's team from Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. The Hub is the name for central S.H.I.E.L.D. command in the show. 
> 
> Yep, Sam and Bucky are one of my endgames ... but next up is a brooding Steve who needs cheering up by Clint. :)
> 
> Callisto is next ... and the "he" who's waiting there.


	18. Inter-Chapter #9: Space Guard Services Committee, chaired by Senator Henry Pym, on the Kree War, S. Hrg 784, Part 6 - Non-combatant Policy and Response, 01.3178.003-12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from transcripts of the Space Guard Services Committee, chaired by Senator Henry Pym, on the Kree War, S. Hrg 784, Part 6 - Non-combatant Policy and Response, 01.3178.003-12.

_**Author's Note:** What follows is an excerpt from the surviving transcripts of the Pym Hearings on the Kree War. Held in 3178, five years after the Battle of the Line, the Space Guard Services Committee's purpose was to uncover the facts of what happened and make recommended changes in case of future incursions.  What evolved was a circus-like atmosphere where participants were more interested in covering their own mistakes than making any of the hard choices called for in the light of the failure of the Alliance's governance and the unpreparedness of the Space Guard to fight a war on more than one front. While Danu was literally still smoldering -- fires burned on the planet for over twelve years -- the Senators preened and tried to position themselves in the best possible light. The promised report was toothless and quickly forgotten,  but the hearings solidified the Colonial Representatives Collective in the House and made the first steps towards the Galactic Consortium.  The hearings were also notable because they were the first simulcast to all colonies in real-time, a feat accomplished by the fledging RWB Net Channel, today's powerhouse of free and equal news and information.  _

_ There are currently less than a hundred pages of the Hearing transcripts in the Consortium Archives.  During the Chitauri war of 3302, a virus infiltrated the Alliance's network and spread through most government files, destroying many important documents. Cost-saving measures enacted in the early 33rd century meant foregoing hard copies of a large bulk of what was deemed mundane minutes, forms, and correspondence.  We may never recover the history that was lost.  _

 

 

 

Excerpt from transcripts of the  **Space Guard Services Committee, chaired by Senator Henry Pym, on the Kree War, S. Hrg 784, Part 6 - Non-combatant Policy and Response, 01.3178.003-12** .

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . … proprietary use of contracts with external firms, Ms. Stark, not to mention the direct violation of non-combatant order 7843-991 …

 

**Dr STARK** . It’s Dr, not Ms, and my preferred pronoun is  _ it _ , Senator, a fact that you are more than aware of considering I’ve filed all the relevant paperwork four times, so either you didn’t read any of your prep material or your just doing that to be an ass which, given the last three days of listening to you blather on talk shows, I’ll assume …

 

**Chairman PYM** . Correction so noted. All members will use  _ it _ when talking about the witness. Now can we get on with it, Brickman? You’ve taken 20 minutes to make a statement about your opposition to Stark Corporation’s involvement in the reconstruction efforts; are we going to ever get a question for Dr. Stark to answer?

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . I still have the floor, Hank. Now, if I can continue, my point has to do with licensing a non-combatant ship, replete with unapproved modifications and advanced, untested weaponry, to be used in an active fire zone with no military oversight? None of the correct procedures were followed and …

 

**Dr. STARK** . It’s because the Guard ships were pieces of crap produced by Doom Interstellar. Those pieces of junk were little more than rattling death traps for the good men and women you shoved inside, people with little to no flight training or space survival skills.  

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . That’s scurrilous slander and you know it. Statistics show an acceptable survival rate for all Guard ships during the last two years of the war …

 

**Dr. STARK** . First off, Ralph, that study you allude to was done by DI itself and if you think it’s not skewed to make them look better then I’ve got some beachfront property on Pluto to sell you.  Secondly, even if it is right, 63% is acceptable? You’re fine with our own technology killing almost 4 out of every ten soldiers who use it? ‘Cause I’m not. But hey, you paid for your vacation house on Io with your DI stock windfall, right? What does it matter if some outer rim kids died?

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . Are you insinuating that I don’t care? Every one of those deaths weighs heavy on my conscience, but that’s the job I was elected to do, to make the hard decisions; because of their sacrifice, you are here today, free to make baseless accusations and create fake news for your media stream.  This is all about you, Morgan Stark, and your belief that a Stark is the answer to every problem. 

 

**Dr. STARK** . Well, that is kinda true; Starks have been saving the galaxy for almost 200 years now. 

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . Listen to that arrogance. You’re nothing but a self-absorbed, rich, spoiled woman with toys you won’t share.  

 

**Dr. STARK** . Really? Let’s see, which one of us flew a modified IO 1747 through the Kree line to take out their communication array and control base, saving countless lives, and which one of us avoided the draft because Daddy bought his way into Culver Colony College with a big new building? 

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . How dare you! I earned my place in that esteemed institution, and I’ve been working hard for my constituents ever since!

 

**Dr. STARK** : Right, the people you care so much about? What did you say about them last week at the fundraising dinner on Callisto? Oh, yeah …

 

**AUDIO FEED**. … funding for those backwater freeloaders, always with their hands out, crying racism and sexism and woe is me. Now they want us to pay to rebuild those shit holes they call home? Well, I say no to pouring more good money after bad …

 

_ *multiple voices shouting, loud sounds, a gavel banging* _

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . What the hell? How did you get that? 

 

**Chairman PYM** . Order! Order! Everyone calm down!

 

**Reporters** . Senator, did you really say that? Is the audio for real? Is this why you voted against the appropriation bill yesterday?

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . No, no, it’s fake, the whole thing is fake. I never said it.

 

**Chairman PYM** . I will have order!

 

**Dr. STARK.** Oh, don’t worry Senator.  Frankie’s sending out a press packet right now complete with eyewitness testimonies and transcripts of not only that meeting, but also your weekend getaways on Epstein’s Astroid. There’s an awful lot of people willing to talk about your opinions and proclivities.

 

**Reporters** . Is that you, Senator, with a convicted pedophile? Senator, were you a member of the Humans First movement during college? Senator? Do you have a statement?

 

**Chairman PYM** . Bailiff, shut the doors. Dr. Stark, please give net control back to the staffer; you are not authorized for access. And will everyone sit down and be quiet!

 

**Dr. STARK** . Oh, yeah, pics and video links are included. *Projects an image* Wow, so that’s why they call you Little Ralphie.

 

**Senator BRICKMAN** . You little cunt! Don’t think you can get away with this! I’ll sue your skinny ass for defamation.

 

**Chairman PYM** . That’s it. Cut the feed. Meeting adjourned. Stark, you’ve had your moment, now stop ... Holy hell, Ralph, what the fuck? …

 

**END Part 6**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick reminder: Author's notes in the text of the chapter are from Wanda Maximoff, the fictionalized writer of Clint's story. She's in the 35th century, looking back. Clint's story is happening in 2864, and the Kree War takes place in 3162-73. Here in the endnotes, it's me, Cake, your half-crazed fanfic author.:) 
> 
> The Pym hearings are patterned after the Foreign Services Committee's Fulbright Hearings on the Vietnam War held in the U.S. I've followed their transcript style here. Interesting tidbit: it was during the Fulbright Hearings that John Kerry, future Senator, and presidential candidate, made his famous Winter Soldier speech about the returning veterans, what they did in Vietnam (atrocities) and how they were treated when the came home. 
> 
> Yep, that's the same MOrgan Stark mentioned in Inter-Chapter #8. I'm assuming life spans have been extended to over 100 years, so like Great-Great-Grandfather, like Great-Great-Granddaughter. :)
> 
> Woke up this morning to hear the news that Jeffrey Epstein, the accused pedophile and peddler of little girls to wealthy and powerful men, appears to have died by suicide in his cell where he was awaiting trial. Pretty sure that influenced my portrayal of Senator Brickman.


	19. Chapter #9:  Give and Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gives Steve the release he needs, Phil's hip-deep in data, and they finally land on Callisto to meet their contact.

“... jumped without a pack!” Sam grinned as he neared the end of his story.  “I mean, honestly, who does that kind of shit and expects to live?”  

 

Bruce wiped a tear away as he laughed.  “I can only imagine the looks on their faces.” 

 

“Jesus, Wilson, you are a piece of work.”  Bucky leaned back in his co-pilot chair, feet kicked up on the control panel. “Got a set of balls on you, I’ll give you that.” 

 

“Play your cards right, vanilla latte, and you might find out just how big.”  Sam’s smile took a wicked turn at the edges. “Somehow, I bet you’ve pulled a few escapades in your lifetime, Mr. Long, Dark, and Mysterious.  Come on, spill, tell us something outrageous you’ve done.” 

 

“Me? Nah, I’m my mama’s good boy,” Bucky said. “Never been in trouble … well, Steve has dragged me into a few scrapes, but he was the one to blame.” 

 

“Oh, come on,” Bruce objected. “I told you about simulcasting the first twenty minutes of that closed conference to the net.” 

 

“Yeah, okay, maybe there was this one time …”  

 

I decided not to interrupt what sounded like a great bonding session; pretty sure Bucky would be willing to fill me in later on what I’d missed.  Heh. Fill me in. Retreating back the hallway, I was startled to see Steve barrel out of his cabin’s doorway, practically knocking me down. 

 

“Sorry, I wasn’t …” he seemed to be running on auto-pilot, brain not engaged. “Everything okay? Buck said he was finishing up in the engine room. He’s not still working on it, is he?” 

 

“All done; he’s up there with Bruce and Sam, telling stories about the stupid stuff they’ve done.” I nodded towards the cockpit. “Sam’s got a whole basket full of tales that will make you laugh.” 

 

Steve certainly looked like he could use a laugh; his brow was furrowed, lines of stress radiating from his eyes and corners of his downturned mouth.  The man was worked up over something, and I suspected it was that note Sharon had tucked into the box with the new parts. Steve had disappeared not long after the repairs began and hadn’t been seen since. 

 

“Yeah, he was telling me about the 58th Pararescue … did you know he was one of those idiots who volunteered to test the EXO-7? Those guys were certifiable.”  

 

“EXO-7?” I’d never heard that designation, but then my knowledge of the various militaries was cursory at best. Could tell the difference between a Bluecoat, an Alliance soldier, and a Space Guard vessel, but that was about it. 

 

“The Falcon program? The Guard’s answer to the Alliance’s drop force. Individual space suits with wings.” He blinked and focused on me. “Hey, you wanna come in? Not a big fan of drinking alone and I’ve got a hankering for a finger or two.” 

 

My eyes widened even as Steve blushed, realizing what he’d said. 

 

“A finger or three does sound good, especially if it’s smooth.”  That’s me, take any opening and run with it. Opening. Heh. Wow, I was on a roll.

 

“Damn it, I’m no good at this shit.”  Steve pushed open this cabin and ushered me in; the room was small, long enough for a bunk on one wall and wide enough to add a chair on one end.  Two doors on the far wall were probably the head and the shower. Steve folded down a small table to reveal a line of bottles tucked into the space behind along with a small vid screen and tins of tea and coffee. “Bucky’s the smooth one; he’s probably up there right now, seducing Sam the same way he did you, pick up lines and easy smiles. He’s tried to teach me but I’m hopeless. Any talk of sex and I turn into a bumbling mess.”  

 

“I don’t know, you’re doing pretty good right now.”  I took the glass of amber liquid he offered and leaned against the wall. “Invitation given and accepted, that’s a beginning.” 

 

“Yeah.”  Steve sat down on the edge of the bunk, glass in one hand and bottle in the other. “Feel like I should come with a warning sign: beware, fucks things up by caring too much too quickly.” 

 

So that’s what this was about. “Ah, Sharon’s letter.”

 

Steve shrugged and tossed back half his drink.  “I really thought she might be the one, you know, settle down, have some kids, have a family …” he sighed, “then I found out about Peggy and she ended it before I could and I’m getting over it, right, accepting that she didn’t want the same things and now she says she still cares but not in that way which I guess means the same as ‘let’s be friends’ which, fuck, is the last thing I want to do.”  

 

I didn’t say anything as he drank the rest of the whiskey then poured some more. 

 

“And after everything I did to make it work.”  Steve stared into his glass, swirling the liquid. “Offered to go legit, keep the flights down so I’d be around more.  She wanted me to go into business with her, and I seriously thought about it …” he trailed off. 

 

“Even though you wanted to keep doing this.”  I waved my hand around the room. “You’re a born ship’s captain, Steve. Clip your wings and you’d be miserable.” 

 

“I know. Hell, she knew too. But we kept talking about it, talking, always talking about us and what was working and what wasn’t and how it was my fault because I didn’t …”  A long swallow and Steve pulled himself together, so forcibly tamping down his misery that my heart ached to watch. “Doesn’t matter anymore. That’s over; live and learn, right?  Won’t make the same mistake twice.” He looked up at me with those blue eyes, a shattered depth reflecting old aches and pains that hadn’t healed. “I have this thing where I ... I tried to explain it to her, but she thought I meant … “ He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’ve never been good at saying things out loud; not sure I even know the right words …”  He petered out again, clearing his throat and taking another drink. 

 

I sipped my own drink then put it down on the table. “Sometimes, I like being held down, especially by someone bigger than me, someone I know could really make me stay where they put me.  There’s something freeing about just taking what’s given; I’ve never been the best at making decisions … I fuck ‘em up far too often for comfort … and I get stressed out. I do it, make the choice and take the responsibility, but then I’ll go find somewhere quiet and fall apart.”  I was so close; one more step and I was in front of him; his head came up to my chest, and he tilted back to maintain eye contact. “For some people, they like the anonymity of it, the thought of being used by someone, used for another’s pleasure. Sex with absolutely no strings, no connections, just a body to be fucked, a cock to be sucked.”  Steve’s face flushed at the words but he didn’t turn away. “But that’s not you. For you, it’s about trust, just like it is for me. To trust someone else to give you what you need without you having to ask for it. Without telling them. No talking, just doing, being. Knowing who you are and what turns you on.” His face softened, lines unfurling, shoulders relaxing. “Bet that’s how you like it, bet you could come on demand if we worked at it.”  I stroked my fingers along that sharp line of a jaw, curling over the shell of his ear. “Some manhandling, being put in place, held there. Open to be touched anywhere, tasted, filled. No bondage or pain … maybe a few handprints so you can press on the bruises and remember tomorrow … you’d rather be right here, my cock in your mouth or in your ass, getting fucked hard until I let you come.” 

 

Steve’s eyes darted down to where my dick was hardening against my pants then back up. “You really do understand.” 

 

“Yeah, I do.”  One hand slipped down the line of his neck, cradled his chin as I grabbed the hairs at the nape of his neck with the other, yanking his bead backward.  I knew I was on the mark when the movement made him groan instead of gasp. “So we’re going to keep this simple. First, you’re going to have to be very specific and give me permission ‘cause this doesn’t happen unless you agree.”  

 

“God, yes,” he said. “I consent.” 

 

Still one of the most sensual phrases I’ve ever heard; makes my cock jump every time. “Good, that’s good.  Now, normally there’s a whole conversation about likes and dislikes, hard and soft limits, so we’re going to stay with the basics. Red means stop, yellow means pause, green means go; when I ask, you tell me a color. Understand?” 

 

“Green.”  Good God, Steve was already tipping, muscles uncoiling as I spoke; it had obviously been a long time since he’d handed the reins to anyone. 

 

“You’re going to be beautiful, aren’t you?”  I ran my thumb over his bottom lip and he parted for me so nicely. “All you have to do is follow directions; can you do that?” 

 

“Yes,” he promised.  

 

“And if you need to stop, just say the word, okay? This only works if you trust me enough to stop.” 

 

Therein lay the crux of submission; you had to be willing to call it quits if things went beyond your boundaries.  Honestly one of the hardest things I’d ever had to learn was to say no. Me, I get wound up about not being perfect; got this complex about thinking I had to be useful or people will leave me.  Goes back to my mom and dad, and I really didn’t want to think of that at the moment.  

 

“I will.”  

 

I let the silence spool out, waiting for his tell, the give away to Steve Roger’s own personal demons. 

 

“I will,” he repeated. “If it hurts or I need a breather, I’ll tap out.” 

 

“And if I ask you to do something that you don’t want to? That makes you uncomfortable?” 

 

He huffed, an almost soundless chuckle. “Yes, okay, I’ll tell you. And for the record, sex with Sharon was good, I just wanted some variety.” 

 

“Un-huh.”  I let that one slide because he was probably partially right; sex can be great and still not fulfilling. “Variety it is.”  I dropped his head and stepped back. “Let’s start with the clothes. Take them off, pile them neatly on the chair. Do it slowly; I like to watch. Shirt first.”

 

Button by button, Steve’s fingers worked his way down the placket, pausing to untuck the rest of the material before finishing. The blue chambray slipped off his broad shoulders, revealing the wide expanse of chest, muscles taut, skimming down to a narrow waist. He was gorgeous, not like one of those vid stars, but human and oh so real, his doubts clouding his eyes and tension shot through the lines of his body.  

 

Then he bent down and untied his boots, putting one toe on the other heel and stepping out of them. Unbuckling his belt, he unthreaded it through the loops before winding it up and laying on the chair with his shirt.  Slower, he divested himself of his pants and underwear and stood before me, all beautiful skin, lines, and planes, a wet dream of a man. 

 

“Amazing.”  I took my time, perusing up from his toes (I don’t have a foot fetish, but damn) to the coif of his hair (I was going to mess that up for sure).  “Takes a lot of discipline to maintain a physique like that.” I got close enough to touch, ran my fingertips along the line of his shoulder, trailing down the bicep and along Steve’s forearm. “So much work.” 

 

“I was sick as a kid.”  Steve’s voice trembled as I dragged back up to dip along his collar bone and between his pecs. “Bucky had to take care of me ‘til he joined up. So I changed that.”

 

There was a story in those two sentences, one that was his to tell or not, and if he didn’t, that was his business. But it spoke volumes about why he kept himself on such a tight leash, worried about how everyone else saw him.

 

“You know that’s impressive, right?” I followed the line of his abs and curved over his obliques. “Not just the way you look which, yeah, is fucking edible, but the pure amount of commitment to do it.”  Upwards, across, a quick tease of nipple then a dive along the faint trail of hair from his belly button. “Day-in-and-day-out, pushing yourself, keeping to the routine.” Circling the base of his hardening cock, and a ghost of a touch over his balls. “Even when you don’t feel like it, no staying in bed or giving up or skipping a workout.” I hit the pressure points, a quick brush to check his sensitivity; the jerk of muscles and hiss of breath answered that.  “Such a tight rein you keep yourself under, all bottled up.” He was quivering now, holding himself very still as I continued my exploration, being a good boy, waiting to be told what to do. “Let’s open you up a little, loosen your hold, shall we?”    
  


“Please.”  No hesitation. 

 

I pretended to think about it, but I”d already decided, had daydreamed about it.  “On your knees.” I waited until he complied. “Hands behind your back, hold one wrist with the other hand.”  I tapped a knee. “Further apart; that’s good. Now look up and beg for what you want.” 

 

“Please,” was his quick answer. 

 

“Be specific.” I yanked his head back again. “Exactly what you want.” 

 

“I want …” He stiffened, straining against my command. 

 

I pinched a nipple, not too hard, but enough to get his attention. “What, Steve? What itch do you have? What hole needs filling? What gets you off?” 

 

“Fuck my mouth.” Steve barely whispered the words. “Make me take it.” 

 

“See? That wasn’t that hard.”  I released him and stroked his hair, twisting my fingers into the soft blonde locks. “Unlike other things that we need to take care of.” 

 

This was my part, pulling out my cock that was already at half-mast, letting Steve get a good look, then taking myself in hand and grazing the tip along Steve’s eminently fuckable lips. “Open.”  He did, eagerly, and I slid my length inside. “Don’t move,” I told him, wrapping my hands around his head, effectively holding him in place. “I’ll set the pace. All you have to do is suck hard.” 

 

I started slow; I didn’t know Steve’s threshold or if he could control his breath.  Turned out that Steve Rogers was a champion cocksucker who lifted his chin and just about yanked my brains out through my dick on the first couple of thrusts. I got on board with the program, picked up the pace, and gave him what he was craving.  He exhaled through his nose, stared up at me, and, damn me if he couldn’t have been in one of those old paintings, a penitent man with a glow in his features and pupils blown wide in adoration. A different kind of energy unspooled in my gut, something powerful and peaceful at the same time.  

 

Being the dominant isn’t usually a role I take; guess I’m too much of a born bottom to really get off on it. And hitting people, causing pain, well, I’ve been told I’m more masochist than sadist, and I’m pretty damn proud of that.  But that’s not was happening here; this was … giving as taking, taking as giving until I couldn’t tell them apart. Steve was setting the agenda by his unconditional surrender and, for me, Steve’s honest pleasure was a heady, heady thing.  

 

We got lost in the act so long I almost forgot the rest of the agenda, the lure of coming down his throat and him swallowing around me almost too damn seductive.  But I intend to fulfill more than one of is unmeet needs even if he made little sounds in his throat as I pulled out. 

 

“Bed.” Shit, my voice was as shaky as Steve’s balance when he stood up. “Hands and knees” And if that wasn’t a sight I’d never forget, well, yeah, fucking hell, Steve presenting himself, thick cock hanging down, ass in the air, was real erotic porn. I slicked up my fingers on my left hand and pressed the palm of my right into the small of his back, easing the first one inside.  “You love this; look at how you part for me, how easily you loosen up.” 

 

“Yes.”  Steve’s head hung down between his shoulders. “I really do love it.” 

 

“Bet you have a drawer full of toys, don’t you, big thick dildos and vibrators and cock rings.”  So pliable, hole widening so fast. “Bet you lay in here, working ‘em in, biting on your pillow to muffle your groans.”  

 

“Jesus, Clint.”  Steve was trembling, a man on the brink of truly letting go. “If you don’t get inside me right now, I might explode.” 

 

“No, you won’t.” I ran my palm up his spine, pressing his chest down on the bed as I withdrew my fingers from his ass, leaving him empty. I shifted my weight and held him there. “You’re not going to come until I tell you to.”  

 

“Yellow,” Steve said. “Yellow.” 

 

I let up immediately and Steve sat up, getting his knees under him. “What’s wrong? Do you need to stop?” 

 

“It’s good, it’s real good,but my shoulder got torn up pretty bad a few years back and still hurts when I twist it that way. Just need to change positions, maybe upright? I mean, I love being fucked from behind, but …” 

 

“Of course. Put one foot on the floor and keep a knee on the bed. Use your good side’s hand to …”  I started to show him, but he got the idea, balancing his weight between floor, bed, and wall with his right arm hanging free. 

 

“Yeah, that’ll work, if you …” 

 

I wrapped an arm around his waist, lined up and pushed in, having taken a moment earlier to apply the second skin and gel sheet. 

 

“Of, fuck, yes. That’s really good.” 

 

Slow but steady I filled him, not stopping until I was as far as I could go. 

 

“Perfect, that’s just … Oh.” 

 

Rolling my hips, I began with tiny thrusts, working up to longer and harder. Steve took it beautifully, whole body relaxing and accepting, eagerly pushing back to meet each one.  He laid his head on my shoulder as I wrapped around him, my front to his back, baring the curve of his neck for me to kiss and nip with my teeth. At a point, I lost the thread, forgot to think about the logistics of what we were doing, just fell into the rhythm and gave myself over to it.  I wasn’t in control, but neither was Steve, both along for the ride. 

 

Time passed, I don’t know how much, then some primal awareness made me whisper into his skin. 

 

“Let it go.” 

 

I felt him clench tight, knew he’d hit his orgasm, and I went tumbling after him so hard I saw stars and galaxies, the whole universe laid out around me, both infinite and intimate at the same time.  Only when I was aware of myself again did I ease out of him, almost stumble on shaky legs, and collapsed on the bunk next to him. 

 

“Wow.” Steve was boneless and indolent. “Yeah, I need to kiss you now if that’s okay.” 

 

So we did for a while, kiss and touch and just be together, until Steve leaned back and smiled at me. 

 

“You’re something else, Clint Barton,” he said. “Damn glad you came on board my ship.” 

 

“Came on board your ship.”  I chuckled. “Is that what we’re calling it?” 

 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Steve nudged me with his shoulder. “Hey, you’re still dressed!”

 

I shucked the second skin, made a perfect arc into the garbage chute, and zipped up. “Part of the illusion, a power play. You feel the buttons and the metal and the fabric, makes it more real.” 

 

“Huh. Yeah, I did, actually.” He smiled. “You stopped for me, when I asked.” 

 

“Of course. An ache like that can suck all the fun out of a good fuck session.”  

 

It was Steve’s turn to laugh.  “Fuck session. Looks like you’ve been in an intense one to me.”

 

I managed to stand. “Yeah, well, you’re a mess, got jizz all over you and your bedding.  Take a shower, why don’t ya?” 

 

“I think I will.”  He didn’t move. “At some point.” 

 

I paused at his door. “Hey, Steve? Don’t settle, okay? Find someone you trust and tell them what you need.” 

 

“I might just do that,” he promised. 

 

By the time I hit the galley, I was humming little snatches of that song about sex and healing and capsizing, feeling loose and replete, thinking about doing a kata or two while I was on this buzzy high. But that would be after I drank some water and replenished my electrolytes because amazing fucking releases so many endorphins and drains the body dry.  

 

“Sounds like you had a good morning,” Phil said from the couch. He had two vid screens and a bunch of data floating in the air. “Worked out a few things?” 

 

“Indeed.”  I slumped down in the chair next to him, noting the dark circles under his eyes and paleness of his skin. “Did you get any sleep at all?” 

 

He shook his head. “Too much to do; the situation is fluid and changing. Trying to get a line on where the hired muscle came from and keep track of Ross and Blonsky’s movements, Willinno Tech’s part in all this. We’re staying a few steps ahead, but we need leverage to get at least one of them off our backs.”  

 

I eyed port manifests, bank transactions, info that was protected and not public knowledge.  Probably Skye’s work, this torrent Phil was wading through; Sam had called him a handler, and that’s exactly what he was doing, handling the details. 

 

“If you need another pair of eyes, I’m pretty good at picking out patterns, seeing what’s missing,” I offered. Yeah, I didn’t like doing it, but it had to be done.  Forewarned plus forearmed equaled not dead, and I liked being alive to have lots and lots of lovely, mind-blowing sex. “Don’t even need to really know exactly what the entries are to find repetition or absences. Actually makes it easier if I don’t.” 

 

“Oh, God, yes.”  Phil gladly spun a screen my way. “These are all the departures and arrivals from Carson’s Corners, Riviera, and Callisto. If we can identify their ships  …” 

 

“Backtrack the various parties and look for things like cancellations and last-minute changes. Yeah, those get flagged by the port authorities, especially big wigs like a General or a big company.  Any chance we can get the PA’s scheduler’s notes? They keep ‘em separate, private, eyes-only. That’s where the best bitching will be; piss one of those guys off and you’re on the permanent blacklist,” I said.  Phil gave me a surprised look. “Had a friend who worked the Danu orbital landing platform; he liked to tell stories.” 

 

“If it’s out there, we’ll get it.”  

 

Phil’s smile made me feel even lighter; I might just float right out of my chair. 

 

* * *

 

 

Like easing a sleeping baby into its crib, Sam landed the Artful Dodger on the private platform high in a tall structure in Arctos, the largest city on Callisto. The whole way down, I stared at the sprawling metropolis, built inside a concave asteroid crater, spilling over the sides with spires rising into the thin atmosphere. One of the first planets to be terra-farmed, Callisto was the second oldest outpost of humanity and, if the urban spread was any indication, one of the most popular with the wealthiest few who could afford to live here.  Most of the workers took the planetary ferry, choosing cheaper options on the less desireable satellites of Jupiter like Almathea and Leda where they stacked them up like cordwood in tiny cubicles and pumped in recycled air that circulated far too many bacteria the scrubbers didn’t catch. Made the outer worlds look a little more appealing.

 

We’d entered the atmosphere and registered the ship as the Sidewinder, captained by one Seth Voelker, a right royal snake of a gun runner according to Natasha. Almost didn’t land at all, thanks to Bucky’s suspicion of the information that appeared on our screen. Bucky only complied after Phil gave his word to Steve that the strange instructions were safe, grumbling the whole time about being too trusting. 

 

The Baxter Building, as it was called, was teeming with activity, smaller transpo taking off and landing on the lower levels, larger ships in all stages of repair and construction filling the higher platforms.  At the topmost was a sign for the Fantastic Foundation, some think tank, Phil told us, the brainchild of Reed Richards, a brilliant scientist, made up of other big brains who sat around and tried to predict what the up-and-coming thing was going to be five, ten, twenty, a hundred years from.  Just a few floors below was the headquarters of Doom Interstellar, and, yeah, I’d heard of Victor Von Doom, self-proclaimed potentate of the Latveria Colony, the kind of megalomaniac who inspired equally crazy disciples who believed the end of the world was nigh. Still, DI made some damn fine ships, way out of just about everybody’s price range, and cosmic radiation shielding that was the standard in the galaxy for shielding and protection.  

 

That’s where we sat down, the retrofitting and engineering section of DI, and waited for Phil’s contact to meet us. Bruce’s nerves were contagious;  Natasha was flipping a knife over her knuckles, occasionally switching with Bucky, trading his longer serrated blade for her sharp stiletto then passing it back.  I don’t think they even realized they were doing it. Bruce’s leg was jiggling, his fingers clenched on the chair’s arms; he counted under his breath, in for four, hold for seven, release for eight. They choose to stay out of sight, Sam at the helm in case anything went wrong. 

 

Steve planted himself at the top of the ramp, a solid barrier, the first line of defense. On Steve’s left, Phil was completely at ease or at least appeared to be.  From my spot at Steve’s right shoulder, I could see the set of Phil’s jaw, the close drape of hand near the gun tucked out of sight inside his jacket. Me, well, my stomach was knotted tight, bow in my left, eyes tracking the hectic movement of people, ships, transports, and drones around us. 

 

Finally, a guy approached, portable screen in hand and a frown on his face.  The pocket flap on his uniform, just below the Doom Interstellar logo, proclaimed his name was Junito.  He walked the ramp, eyes searching the screen, almost bumping into Steve before he jerked them up and took a step back. 

 

“Ah, Captain … Voltron?”  He didn’t even glance my way; instead, he scrunched his nose and pursed his lips.  “And this is your ship?” 

 

“Voelker,” Steve corrected. “Yes, this is the Sidewinder.”

 

“I’m afraid this platform is already reserved for another customer; you to be redirected to our secondary site at Semele where we deal with these model.”  

 

Disdain dripped on every word and we got the message loud and clear. 

 

“We have an appointment,” Phil said, “and this is our directed location.”

 

“Your paperwork appears to have been misplaced, and we have a long waiting list.” Junito almost sneered as he surveyed the cargo bay. “We don’t deal with your type here.” 

 

“Our type?” Steve towered over the man, every inch the war hero he was. “And what type would that be?” 

 

The asshole must have had some sense of self-preservation because he backtracked on the attitude in the face of Steve’s disapproving gaze. “I mean your ship. This is our luxury craft headquarters; mundanes and transports are handled off-world.” 

 

“Mundane. I see. First, you lose our order and then you insult us?” Phil raised an eyebrow and, damn, that was playing dirty. Steve and Phil ganging up on the guy? I almost felt sorry for him. “The mistake is your problem, not ours. We expect to receive the service we were promised, where we were promised, and at the price we were promised. Perhaps we could talk to your superior …” 

 

A maintenance sled clattered over the causeway, stopping at the bottom of the ramp. The man who jumped off was clad in greasy overalls, a ratty cap pulled down over his dirty brown hair and fingerless gloves on his hands. Toolbox in hand, he bounced up the ramp. 

 

“Whoo-hee, Vick wasn’t lying; this is a real lovely example of a Lionheart. Still got original pylons and landing gear.”  Dark brown eyes peered over safety glasses. “Holy fuck-me-and-call-me-Shirley. I have died and gone to heaven. Sexy Robin Hood, Dream Daddy, and … Jesus on a cracker, Mystery Date Man Candy, ready to be licked.” 

 

“Who are you?” Junito’s face was flushed with anger, his lips compressed in a tight line. 

 

“Invoice 7E9932XL4.”  The guy flicked a wrist and Junito’s screen lit up. “Priority one, signed by the Big Doom himself. I’ve got all the parts pulled and have filed the 24-VDI-92. Now I get to spend some quality with my hands inside this gorgeous hunk of machinery until it purrs like the big cat it is.” 

 

“You’re not authorized …” Junito stopped, flicked through the images then cursed under his breath. “Why does no one tell me these things? And why do we even have rules if I’m the only one who follows them!” He threw up his hands. “Fine. Leave this hunk of junk where everyone can see it. Make me lie to the Prince about why we aren’t ready for his pleasure upgrades.”  He kept muttering to himself as he stormed off. 

 

“Okie dokie, boys, I’ll give him ten minutes, fifteen max, before he decides to check with Old Metal Head’s office then we’re shit out of luck. Let’s get the fuck out of Dodge.”  He didn’t wait for an answer, trotting back to fire up the sled. 

 

“Is he …?” Steve asked Phil. 

 

“Our contact? Yeah. Better get out of the way.” Phil tugged Steve’s arm; we all stepped out of the path as the guy drove up the ramp and parked. 

 

“So fire this puppy up and get us airborne. We’ve got a short window to blow this pop stand.”  

 

Phil nudged me and I jumped in to help secure the sled while he closed the ramp. 

 

“Look, we can’t just take off,” Steve started to explain. “Traffic control has to ..”

 

“Aw, how cute. Like that matters.”  He patted Steve on the cheek, lifting up on his toes and making kissy noises. He waved his hand again, dismissing Steve’s concern as he jogged up the stairs. “JARVIS, monitor the flight lanes, send a departure pattern to the cockpit and file clearances for the … Southwind? Sandwich? .... What name did you use?” 

 

“Sidewinder.” Steve stayed one step behind. “But you can’t …” 

 

“Strap in or hold on, people,” Sam called. “We’re okay for lift off.” 

 

The engines fired, the ship rose then there was a loud ping and a sickly burned smell filled the hallway. As we entered the bridge, Bucky reached up and flipped a row of switches while Sam wrestled with the control stick, arms straining to keep us going up. 

 

“What was that?” Steve demanded. 

 

“Lost a cylinder, I think,” Bucky answered. “Might have blown a gasket. Hell, I don’t know, we’re still flying, ain’t we?” 

 

“That was the advanced steering belt; still made of that old polymer that was phased out five years ago, smells like burnt toast because of the cellulose-binding agent. Going to be hard as hell to bank, but we’re in no danger. Just reroute the deflector shield static field to the gravity well side, and we’ll be fine.”  The guy peered over Sam’s shoulder. “Now if it had been a cylinder gasket, we’d be pretty much dead in the water since this model’s engine is in-line rather than cooperative and when one goes, it’s a chain reaction. I’ll fix that soon as I get into the belly of the beast.”  

 

“Look, I don’t know who you are, but this is my ship and nobody’s going to be putting their hands in …” 

 

Steve was cut short by Bruce’s appearance in the doorway. 

 

“Mr. Stark?” Bruce’s mouth dropped open. “That’s who we’re meeting? Tony Stark?” 

 

“Dr. Banner, I presume?” Tony offered his hand. “Your work on the mutation of radioactive gamma isotopes in magnetic fields is unparalleled. And I’m a big fan of how you’ve pissed off the Alliance and the whiny Williamses with your research on the green plague. Gonna really enjoy watching the fall out once the news gets out.” 

 

“Thanks. I think.”  Bruce rubbed the back of his neck and refused to look at the rest of us. “Yeah, um, just to warn you, pretty much everyone’s trying to kill me … kill us ... to get the data.”  

 

“Well, now that makes things more interesting, doesn’t it?” Stark said. “Hey, flyboy, set a heading for the coordinates on the screen; got the lab powering up and a docking bay ready to cradle this baby.  Plus, hot tub’s warm and the liquor’s top shelf. Mi casa es su casa, Brucie. We’re all going to make beautiful music together.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good God in Heaven, but Tony Stark unfettered is damn fun to write. PUtting him and this Clint together is like lighting a match after pouring a whole bottle of lighter fluid on charcoal. It's gonna be a real blast. :)
> 
> I don't claim to be an expert in dom/sub relationships. This is entirely from Clint's POV and what he and Steve need, so, as usual, don't believe everything you read in my writing. I'm making it up as I go along. 
> 
> Seth Voelker, aka Sidewinder, was the leader of the Serpent Society, a long-running league of villains that all the Avengers fought. 
> 
> All of Jupiter's moons and satellites are named for women in Greco-Roman mythology who were screwed over by Zeus/Jupiter. Callisto is one of the most likely to have life, according to NASA, and is often mentioned as a possible terra-farming location if we ever figure out how to efficiently do it. Almathea and Leda are pretty much asteroids that have gotten stuck in Jupiter's orbit. Living on them wouldn't be pleasant. 
> 
> That's Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four making his appearance. He does, at a point, form the Fantastic Foundation during one of the times he's on the outs with Sue and Ben and Johnny (which happens a lot). Reed always works out of the Baxter Building. 
> 
> Victor Von Doom is very well-known as a Marvel villain. The cosmic radiation shielding is a nod towards how the FF and Von Doom are often said to get their powers ... in a solar storm. 
> 
> Sexy Robin Hood is pretty obvious, but Dream Daddy is from the video game of the same name, and Mystery Date ... well, google Chris Evans and Mystery Date and get a nice surprise. :)


	20. Inter-Chapter #10:  "Green is the Colour"  by Dede Quigang

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Green is the Colour"   
> Dede Quigang
> 
> From The Plague Years: Quigang’s Collected Poetry, Volume 3.

**Green is the Colour**

Dede Quigang

 

From  _ The Plague Years: Quigang’s Collected Poetry, _ Volume 3.

  
  


Take me, I told him, mold and make me

Over in your image

Whole and unbroken,

No more splinters of what once was

 

Sing to me, I told her, capture and collect me

Under the covers

Safe and contained

Not exposed to an uncaring universe

 

Kiss me, I told them, once more and leave me

Beneath the open sky

Sated and content

Instead of alone and breathing through this tube

 

Hold me, I told the ground, blanket and hide me

Away from the stares of pity

Warm and comforted

No more cold sheet as waiting shroud

 

Love me, I told the stars, cherish and complete me

Across the expanse

Finished and Ready

Rather than this hollow shell with nothing inside

 

We came, you and I, for a future 

 

We stayed, you and I, to build a life 

 

I go, just me, on the whim of a disease that doesn’t give a shit

 

I am angry

 

And I am dead 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poetry, of course. Couldn't resist. :)


	21. Chapter #10:  Confession is Good for the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce tells his story, there is swimming, hot tub time, exhibitionist sex, scones, and a confession or two. 
> 
> The calm before the storm.

 Soon as we landed, Tony ushered us off the ship and down the ramp. Waiting at the bottom was a strawberry blonde, tall and slim, her arms crossed over her chest as if to hold herself back.  

 

“Pep!” Tony called her name; the woman arched an eyebrow his direction. “Look who I found! One of your favorite people.” 

 

“Phil.”  The woman ignored him and welcomed Phil with a hug. “It is good to see you; I was worried after I got your call.”

 

“Sorry to bring this to your door, Pepper.” Phil’s face softened as he kissed her on the cheek. “You look good.” 

 

“I have bags under my eyes from keeping up with Tony, but it’s nice of you to say. And I know you wouldn’t ask if there was any other option.” She looked around at all of us. “Please, come in.  My name is Pepper Potts; I’m Tony’s personal assistant. Dinner should be ready soon and the rooms are done with their cleaning cycles. Business can wait until after we’ve eaten.”

 

She spoke with each of us as we exited the docking bay, asked names, made a kind comment.  To me, she noted my tatts, commented on the Flidais. Tony and Bruce took the lead, knee-deep in science babble; I caught every fourth word or so and didn’t bother to make sense of it. Only Phil seemed relaxed; Natasha walked quietly by my side, sharp eyes taking in every detail. 

 

Bucky nudged me, waggling his eyebrows; I shrugged.  Hell if I knew what the plan was; this was probably the end of my involvement in the whole escapade. Natasha had hired me to help her shop around a product and it looked like Tony Stark had won the bidding. Not the worst-case scenario; Stark’s reputation as a wastrel playboy -- he’d actually been kicked off three planets for breaking moral turpitude laws and I respected that -- was superseded by his acknowledged scientific brilliance. Stark was to a mechanic as my Kyudo master was to an archer.  Hell, he’d pretty much invented the vid network interface and his company built the best ships, not that I could afford to buy one. Bruce could do a lot worse than selling whatever it was to Stark.  

 

“... equipment you need to finish,” Tony was saying as we entered a large living space.  “JARVIS already has your voiceprint, so just ask him and we’ll fabricate it on site.” 

 

“Wow.” Sam stopped in front of the floor-to-ceiling plexiwall; framed by the panels of thick translucent material was the orange and red swirls of Jupiter.  “That’s some view.”

 

“Wait until you see the rooftop deck; 180 degrees of pure space porn.” Tony sauntered over to the bar, reaching over to pull out a bottle and some glasses. “And the infinity-edge pool is like swimming in the stars.” 

 

“Pool?”  I practically drooled at the thought of swimming. No one wanted to waste water on frivolous things like a pool on the outer rim.

 

“Yep.” Stark popped the p on the end of the word then smacked me on the shoulder. “And a hot tub big enough for an orgy even a Danuean would be proud of.”

 

“What Tony means ...” Pepper took the glasses and put them on the bar top. “... is that we have plenty of space.  There are three guest rooms a level above us, each with their own bath. The kitchen is down the hall and fully stocked; our robot chef can prepare just about anything you want, so you’re welcome to help yourself.” 

 

“We appreciate it, ma’am,” Steve spoke up. “But we won’t be staying long, at least Bucky and me. We’ve got contracts, pickups to make.”

 

“Not until that baby is purring.” Tony passed a drink to Phil and offered a second to Natasha. “Give me a couple of days and I’ll have her growling” 

 

“Thank you for the offer, but those parts you brought are expensive and …”

 

“Yeah, not a problem.” Tony talked over Steve, waving away his concerns. “Can’t stand to see a ship in that condition; consider it an act of compassion.” 

 

Steve’s face went red and he clenched his fists; Bucky laid a hand on his shoulder and jumped into the conversation. 

 

“Fuck you, Stark.” Bucky didn’t mince words. “We don’t want your damn sympathy or your help. Come on, Steve, let’s get the hell out of here; ain’t sitting around and getting insulted by this asshole.”

 

They turned to go; Sam’s eyes darted between them and us. Phil’s jaw went rigid, his anger flushing under his skin. 

 

“Hey, wait.”  Yeah, I stepped in the middle of it because, honestly, Stark was being an idiot, but I got the read that he meant well.  “How about we open negotiations? I mean, the parts are here, you’re here, we should probably lay low for a day or two, and this place has a hot tub, so maybe we work this out? I’m sure Stark here’s open to a payment plan. And you can set some hard and fast rules for what he can and can’t do.” 

 

“I do like things hard and fast.” Tony put the bottle down. “Look, I’m kind of use to doing what I want when I want …” 

 

“Without asking permission or worrying about consequences,” Pepper said, shooting him a harsh frown. “You can’t roll over people, Tony. We’ve talked about this.” 

 

“... and I don’t listen to voices of reason like Pepper or Phil,” Tony continued. “It’s your ship, I get it. I’m half-in-love with her already, but you set the ground rules and I’ll play nice.” 

 

“We have to pay you for the work,” Steve insisted.  Oh, he wasn’t mollified, I could tell and neither was Bucky; Stark had insulted their baby and it was going to take a lot of fancy footwork to get past it. “Give us an estimate and we’ll see what we can afford.”     
  
“Actually,” Pepper said, “I’ve been meaning to look into contract shipping for some of Tony’s more … outside-the-box needs. Wasn’t sure where to start, but, if you’re interested, we could price out a couple of runs, starting with one to New Tromsko to pick up a shipment.” 

 

“And that’s why you are in charge of my life, Miss Potts.” Tony put his hands on either side of her face and kissed Pepper on the forehead. “Two birds with one stone, indeed.  I get to play in the Captain’s bilge space and have iced ambrosia wine to celebrate!” 

 

“Ambrosia is illegal to take off-planet.” Phil’s lips turned up at the edges. “It’s an expensive proposition, risky too.” 

 

“Well, then, shall we begin, say tomorrow?”  I asked. “I’ll do some research, see what the going rates are.” 

 

I thought Bucky was going to torpedo the deal; his eyes were dark as thunderclouds, but he gave a sharp nod of agreement to Steve’s questioning look. 

 

“We’ll think about it,” Steve said. “But no touching until I say so; are we clear on that, Stark?” 

 

“Right. No touchy. Yep.” Stark winked. “To clarify, you mean the ship, right?”

 

Steve rolled his eyes and didn’t answer, but the tension lessened in the room. 

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

To my stomach’s delight, dinner was a spread of honest-to-God pizzas complete with real pepperoni and the best spicy marinara sauce I’d had in forever.  By the time we’d all had a couple of beers and four or five slices of the divine rounds of goodness, everyone had mellowed out enough to get past Tony’s seeming inability to filter what came out of his mouth.  Somewhere along the way, even Bruce had lost his edge and settled deep in one of the comfortable chairs, fascinated by swirling clouds on the planet below. 

 

I was thinking long and hard about the shower I’d seen in the bedroom where I’d dropped my stuff -- a giant bed big enough for three people (and wouldn’t that be a hell of a way to spend the night, making love under Jupiter’s light) and a bathroom like something out of a fevered dream -- but was torn by the lure of a hot tub dip first. I could get used to these kinds of choices. 

 

“So, Brucie Baby, want to come down to the lab? You show me yours, I’ll show you mine,” Tony said. “Talk about gamma radiation and the cure for the plague.” 

 

Took a second to register then the room fell silent, all eyes turned towards Bruce. 

 

“What?” Tony asked into the quiet. “Wait, they didn’t know? Phil, when you said it was a secret, I thought you meant from everyone else, not you guys.” 

 

“Even Phil and Natasha haven’t heard the whole story,” Bruce said.    
  


“A cure?” Sam asked. “You have a possible cure?” 

 

Bruce pushed himself upright.  “Yeah, you deserve to know, but I have to warn you; everyone who knows is either dead or on the run like me. There are people who do not want this information to get out.” 

 

“But, why would anyone not want a cure? That’s crazy,” Steve said. 

 

“Bet it’s about money.” Sam hung his legs over the arm of the couch, pushing into Bucky’s space. “Whoever gets the rights to make it can charge any price they want.” 

 

“That, but so much more.”  Bruce sighed. “Look, I really appreciate all you’ve done for me, honestly.  Clint for saving my life more than once and getting me to the ship. Natasha for hooking me up with Phil, Phil connecting me to Tony.  Steve and Bucky for taking me where I needed to go, Sam for flying us the hell off of that last planet. So, if you want to opt-out, go back to your lives, not get tangled up any further in mine, I’ll understand.”

 

“For a smart guy, you’re pretty clueless,” Bucky said. “Ain’t nobody leavin’; might as well spill.” 

 

Bruce drank the last swallow of his beer then cleared his throat. “That’s … I’m not used to having people stick with me; never had that many friends to start with and lately I don’t ... “  He took a deep breath. “Okay, yeah, the story. I study gamma radiation, specifically how it affects human bodies, its mutagenic properties. Pretty esoteric stuff; I was a lab rat, happy to run simulations and posit theories and write papers. Never felt the urge to get out in the field.  Then I met Betty; she’s a real save the universe type who preached we needed to leave the ivory tower and help people. Somehow she dragged me along to conferences and talked me into applying for a grant with her; she was convinced that my work was the key to understanding the green plague. This was back before it really began spreading, and Betty thought if we took my data and merged it with her recombinant DNA theory, we’d find answers. She was right, but not in any way we ever imagined.”

 

“The black hole warping?” Tony snagged another piece of pizza. “Viral DNA mutations?” 

 

“Give me a minute, I’m getting there.” Bruce went on. “This was two years ago; we were working on a shoestring grant, barely enough money to pay for lab time and basic equipment. We had one lab assistant, a kid named Peter, who was eighteen and getting college credit in lieu of a salary. Night and day, we crunched data, ran simulations, tried to isolate variables, but came up with nothing.  Our funding started to dry up -- no results means no money --and we were going to have to close up shop, move on, when Betty’s dad offered a different revenue stream; a military grant from the Alliance Science Foundation.” 

 

“Betty.” Phil sat up straighter.  “Who works with radiation and recombinant DNA. You mean, Dr. Elizabeth Ross.” 

 

“The general’s daughter?” Steve’s eyes widened. “Good God if he wants whatever you’ve found …” 

 

“... he’d be willing to do whatever it took,” Bucky finished. “The ASF is in bed with the military; you take their cash, they own your soul.” 

 

“Which is why we said no,” Bruce agreed. “Three times, he came back, growing more insistent. I thought it was just anger at our refusal, but eventually, I realized he was worried about Betty and was trying to protect her by bringing us under his purview. But we were stubborn, so sure of ourselves that when we heard about a science ship with two plague survivors, we didn’t hesitate or think through the consequences.  Peter and I packed up our gear and jumped on the first transport; God, I remember being so excited, thinking we were on the brink of finally understanding …” He fell quiet for a long moment. “We met them, took samples, ran our tests and determined they were completely free of the illness. I went to examine the whole ship, look for contaminates, while Peter stayed with them. That’s when the unthinkable happened.”

 

“Tehragheh, right?” Sam interrupted. “I remember hearing about it. Twenty-five people killed at the hospital. The first outbreak of the violent psychosis that’s become the hallmark of the disease; I was just about to muster out and they warned us away from the outer rim, to stay in closer.” 

 

Bruce’s voice grew harsher. “Those survivors were not sick; they’d been in an external chamber of the ship, separate from the others for the whole journey as part of an extended experiment on isolation and long-term travel. Even their air was cycled through a different filter.”  

 

“Are you suggesting …” Steve started to ask but trailed off at the horror of the thought. 

 

“The two survivors were infected with a virulent strain of the disease on purpose,”  Bruce said through clenched teeth. 

 

“Why would anyone do that?” Pepper asked, a hand covering her mouth.  “That’s beyond the pale.” 

 

“To cover up a mistake, make it impossible to trace what had happened,” Phil suggested. “Willinno Tech worked hand-in-hand with the Alliance, built their facilities, ran their testing labs. Something must have gone wrong somewhere, and the plague was the outcome. Wouldn’t be the first time either one of them swept facts under the rug and left the public to suffer. Dead men tell no tales and you had evidence.”

 

Bruce nodded. “Took us until six months to put all the pieces together. We kept gathering samples of infected patients; got in some pretty hairy situations. Peter and I were on Outpost forty-seven when they tried to enforce a lockdown; Peter was banged up, even had someone bite a chunk out of his shoulder in the melee. In the end, every victim had high readings of an unknown form of gamma radiation, one I’d thought to be only theoretical. A mutated isotope that, if it existed, could only be found in very specific circumstances.  There was only one place where it was even remotely possible, and anything built there was subject to very strict environmental controls.” 

 

“Warping the fabric of time and space.” The thing Tony had said earlier made me dredge up what little I could remember of my science classes. “I read something about those colonies out in Sagittarius A, the ones near that glowing black hole. All about the possibility of the gravity well and other forces changing the very structure of molecules ...” 

 

“Fucking hell,” Tony all but growled. “Willinno Tech got the contracts to build transparent coverage walls for an Alliance science station and outpost in that sector, beat us out with a crazy low bid that they couldn’t sustain. They counted on the money they’d make once they had a working formula and could sell it at super cheap margins to people on limited budgets. Even got a pass from the Galactic Consumer Trade board because the top Alliance brass put a word in on Willinno’s behalf.  So many ships were outfitted with it; it’s still the most common colony dome material.”

 

“I don’t follow,” Bucky said. “If the black hole warped the gamma radiation and it got through the shielding, there’d be outbreaks of radiation poisoning in Sagittarius A. But the plague is a disease you can catch from other infected people and it’s all over the outer rim. What does one have to do with the other.” 

 

“A science ship. You said the two survivors were on a science ship.” I started putting the pieces together. “What were they experimenting on at that outpost and where were they shipping the evidence?” 

 

“Oh, Sexy Boy has a brain.” Tony tossed something my way; I caught the wrapped candy and grinned back. “Willinno has multiple contracts with the ASF to study everything from potassium crystals to ebola. My money’s on some old virus in a test tube getting it on with a mutant gamma isotope and, boom, a new plague is born.” 

 

“One of the missions of the Jansky science outpost was experimenting with viral vectors as a way to insert genetic material into DNA; they had two of the top people in the field working there. On the surface, their stated goals seem innocuous -- stronger bones, leaner muscles, quicker impulse reaction -- but Betty believes extended exposure to the mutated gamma was a catalyst for recombination of the material. The infected ship was carrying a cargo of what they called ‘enhanced cells’ from Jansky to an ASF facility, and they weren’t the only one that left the outpost. Shipments have been coming and going from there since before the first cases of the plague were reported.” 

 

I couldn’t take it anymore; I got up and walked over to Bruce,  sat down on the arm of the chair and covered his hand with mine. He gripped it tightly. 

 

“Jesus,” Sam said. “They had to know when the first cases showed up. Why the fuck did they keep going?” 

 

“Steve can answer that one,” Natasha said. “He knows first hand what the Alliance would do with a heretofore unseen disease.” 

 

Steve’s face grew solemn, his jaw tightening, eyes going stony cold. “Weaponize it, take Bruce’s and anybody else’s research and turn it into chemical warfare. They’re always looking for a new way to silence anyone who speaks against them. As long as it stayed on the outer rim, they’d let it ravage whole settlements while they sat on the cure, locked in a vault, only to be used to protect themselves.”

 

“Thanks to Bruce, there’s cure’s going to be widely available,” Pepper said. “Tony will see to it.” 

 

“Actually, it’s only been tested once, and there were side effects,” Bruce admitted. “We didn’t have time for more trials. First, Peter got sick just a few days after the Outpost riot; Betty called a friend of hers who was a doctor and we lived on pins and needles for the two week incubation period, working frantically on the cure.  Then Peter bounced back and the doctor said it was a garden variety infection from an unclean wound; we breathed easier, but Betty and I still agreed that it was time to send Peter home. Kid fought the whole way, he really wanted to stay, but no way was I going to have that on my conscience.” 

 

I had a flash of what was coming next and I squeezed Bruce’s fingers and rested a calming hand on the back of his neck. 

 

“After that, I didn’t tell Betty when my first symptoms showed up. Didn’t seem to be a reason to worry her; either I had it or not, only time would tell. We were already working around the clock to create a prototype. Not long after we achieved 74% success rate, according to the simulations, Betty messaged me in the middle of the night.  The General had landed planetside with Blonsky; they were coming to confiscate our work and she was going to head him off at the pass. I saved what I could to a portable private data bank, synthesized one dose, then wiped everything.”

 

“You used it on yourself.”  Natasha’s eyes focused in on Bruce. “Two birds, one stone. If you were sick, there was a good chance it would heal you.  And even if you weren’t, you’d be carrying the genetic equation for the cure in your cells; you could leave out key information in the data in case it fell into someone else’s hands.” 

 

Bruce nodded once in acknowledgment. 

 

“That’s a hell of a risk,” Steve said. “You said there were side effects …” 

 

“There are.” Bruce closed his eyes and let out a long slow breath. “I try to avoid getting angry, for one.” 

 

“Well, that’s easy enough.”  Tony rolled off his chair and popped up to his feet. “JARVIS can only do a baseline scan -- we’ll need to get him running on your samples, probably take, what do you think JARVIS? A day?” 

 

“18 Jupiterian hours and 68 minutes, assuming you wish me to collate and extrapolate all data Dr. Banner provides.” The voice came speakers in the walls. “I can also run variables on the simulations Mr. Coulson sent to look for increased success percentages.” 

 

“Right, we do that, only take a few minutes on our part, then we hit the hot tub, a few laps in the pool, maybe a workout in the gym, some quality naked body surfing, then sleep.  Not a reason to get angry at all.” Tony held out a hand to Bruce. “If you want to. It’s your discovery, Dr. Banner; the decision’s yours.” 

 

“I do. Want to.” Bruce let Tony pull him up. “Not necessarily everything on that list, but let’s start the ball rolling in the lab and see where it goes.” 

 

“Good, okay then. Give us ten, people, then it’s wet-n-wild fun time for all. Skinny dipping is perfectly acceptable …” 

 

“There are suits for visitors in changing rooms,” Pepper interrupted. “Please help yourselves.” 

 

“Right, suits.” Tony wrinkled his nose at Pepper but winked at us. “Hot tub, fifteen.”

 

“He’s a piece of work.” Sam waited until we were in the elevator heading up to the observation deck. 

 

“It’s an act, the whole good old boy asshole thing,” I said.  It was true; Stark put on a good act but he was obvious with the ‘push people away so they don’t hurt me’ schtick.  Personally, I go with the ‘be accommodating and don’t ask for anything but a passing fuck’ strategy. A lot less pain and angst, at least externally, but Stark seemed to thrive on drama. 

 

“Or he’s just an asshole,” Bucky argued. “Who has to always be in control of everything.” 

 

“I think he’s as screwed up as all of us,” Steve said softly. “Did you see his face when he thought we were going to leave? He was hurt. You remember how Dugan always pretended he knew everything? I think Stark’s the same.” 

 

“Oh, it’s like that is it?”  Bucky nudged me with his shoulder. “Somebody’s got their panties in a bunch for Mr. Rich and Mouthy. But don’t worry, Steve takes forever to make a move so there’s plenty of time to take a test spin if you want.” 

 

“I am not …” Steve stopped as the doors opened. “Shit.” 

 

The curve of the vaulted arch revealed a vast swath of space, Jupiter looming on the left, darkness dotted with stars on the right.  There were no walls at all, and it felt like walking into the expanse, the floor the only thing keeping us grounded. I’d never seen anything like it, not even in the Grand Hall where the most important of negotiations were handled. 

 

“I’d say this is how the other half lives, but Stark’s the top 1% of 1%,” Sam said. “Jesus, even the pool is translucent. Guess we really can swim in the Milky Way.”  

 

“It’s over the top,” Natasha agreed, stepping out of a doorway wearing a simple black bikini. “I saw a bottle of Castello di Brolio cabernet; anyone want to share a glass?” 

 

“Pour me one.” Hell yes, I was going to drink Stark’s expensive wine. “I’ll be right back.” 

 

From the dozen options of suits, I grabbed some trunks with a purple waistband and made short work of stripping and slipping them on. Still, Bucky beat me to the pool’s edge; he dove in without hesitation, cresting up and flopping over on his back. 

 

“Come on in,” he told me with a wink then splashed Steve with a wave of water. 

 

“Cannonball!” Sam launched himself into the air, tucked up his knees and hit the surface hard, dousing Steve and I both. 

 

“Not going to be any water left,” Steve groused, stopping to dip his toe in. “It’s warm enough to …” 

Bucky’s hand snaked around Steve’s ankle and pulled him in.  Steve coughed and sputtered as he came back up. “Oh, it is on.” 

 

I left them to their fun, drawn to where Natasha was sitting on a lounge, wine uncorked and poured. One sip and I was sold; deep with a hint of chocolate, the red filled my mouth and warmed my throat as it slid down.  Already half-buzzed from the beer with dinner, a couple of glasses of this smokey goodness and I was going to be well and truly feeling no pain. 

 

“A good vintage, but no Chateau Picard Bourgogne France-Comté.” She held up her glass, spun the liquid and watched the play of light. “Of course, beggars can’t be choosers.”

 

As she extended her arm back down, I saw a recent cut just above the curve of her hip, an even half-inch line. 

 

“Didn’t know you got hit on Carson’s Corners.”  I couldn’t remember seeing any blood on her, too caught up in Phil’s injury. 

 

“I didn’t.” She sipped and turned her eyes towards the elevator where the doors slid open.  “Oh, look, it’s Phil and that lovely Ms. Potts.” 

 

Distraction, pure and simple, but it worked like a charm, my gaze immediately drawn to Phil. His blue trunks left a lot of skin on display and I suddenly lost my train of thought to the pull of his muscles and play of the light. He smiled at Pepper, their heads bent together as they walked; even though she wasn’t dressed for the water, Phil looked the perfect foil to her neat and tidy image. I got a good look at the scar on his chest and noticed a host of other markings -- bullet holes, burns, a hairless patch of skin on his left leg -- and I wanted to know the story behind each one, who had hurt Phil and where I could find them.  

 

Then Pepper laughed, and Phil’s eyes crinkled, and a weight dropped from my chest into my gut, a tense coil that wrapped my stomach in knots as it pressed down on my lungs.  I couldn’t take a deep breath, couldn’t blink, could only stare at the two of them. 

 

“He saved her life a while back,” Natasha said softly. “A kidnapping attempt on Stark and she would have been collateral damage. Phil pushed her out of the way; see that laser scar just above his waistband?”

 

“Of course he did.”  Phil being a hero didn’t surprise me, nor did Pepper falling in bed with the man who’d rescued her. 

 

“Wasn’t much of a thing, truth told,” Natasha continued. “They slept together once or twice then decided they were better as friends.” 

 

“Natasha, Clint, I see you found the wine fridge.”  Pepper glanced at the bottle. “Oh, I’ll definitely join you in a glass. Then we’ll open a Dernier Vineyards Sauvignon; they’re growing new varieties on Catalanian.”  

 

“Sounds lovely,” Natasha agreed. “Phil? Want to join us?” 

 

“After a few laps.”  He walked to the stairs and entered the pool. “You coming, Clint?” 

 

I damn well wished I was.  A wet Phil was even sexier than a half-dressed Phil, and the way he powered through the water, arms cutting the surface and legs kicking his body forward, well, I was glad I’d gone with the trunks instead of one of the skimpier suits because everyone would know.  

 

The pool was big enough that Phil and I could go back and forth and not interrupt the impromptu game of baskets the others started.  They’d found some gear in a storage container, regulation size goals and balls; it wasn’t long before Bucky grabbed a handful of my ass and dragged me into a two-on-two bit of cut-throat, no rules slam and dunk.  Literal dunking as in being yanked underwater and swallowing half a liter before coming back up. We kept calling timeouts to take a drink and the game got louder and more raucous as we went along.  

 

At some point Bruce and Tony showed up -- I couldn’t say how long for the life of me -- and we migrated to the hot tub which, yes, could fit all of us with room left over.  My glass was never empty; the wine changed texture and color, shifted in flavor. I enjoyed each one even as I became more and more relaxed, crossing from mildly buzzed to richly drunk, well and truly intoxicated with alcohol, a good group of people, and time to do nothing but sit and look at the stars. 

 

The night devolved into moments, details drifting away on the swirls of Jupiter’s colors 

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

Floating on my back, I pressed my feet against the clear wall of the pool, the chill of the water welcome after the heat of the hot tub.  Space flowed over me and against me, a gentle current that bobbed me up and down. My hands spun in lazy circles, keeping me in place. Beside me, Sam let out a long sigh. 

 

“This is crazy,” he said. “Last week I was out of a job, hanging around on a backwater planet, hoping to get some crappy short term gig to get to the next place where I’d do it all again. Now I’m in gazillionaire’s mansion, drinking his liquor and hanging with the sexiest motherfuckers I’ve ever seen. Not gonna pinch myself because, if this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.” 

 

I laughed because he was right.  “Too true.” 

 

“... the solenoid based system is the most dependable even if it is outdated,” Steve was arguing, sitting on the edge of the pool, his legs hanging in. “And we can always find replacements for it …”

 

“Exactly! That Hammer synthetic sparkler shit is a flash-in-the-pan and will cost an arm-and-a-leg when it goes bad, which it will in under a year. But what I’m talking about is a new vulcanization process that makes material that never needs replacing. I’m serious, this stuff will last at least 100 years if not more ..”  Tony waved his hands, getting even more passionate about his topic. 

 

“So…” Sam dropped his voice. “You did both Steve and Bucky, eh?  And they’re okay with it?” 

 

“We’re good.” I turned my head his way. “Does it bother you?” 

 

“Nah, man, I mean what goes before isn't my business, you know? Just thinking if you’re going for Stark next and Steve’s interested too, like, how does that play out?” 

 

“I have sex with Stark and Steve does whatever he wants to do.” I wasn’t sure what Sam was driving out. 

 

“Yeah, but say Steve wants more and you’ve already been there …” 

 

“Ah. Is this about Steve or you and Bucky? ‘Cause Bucky and I had sex, yeah, and we might do it again, but I’m not interested in a relationship with him. There’s fucking someone and being with someone. Both are good, don’t get me wrong, but they are vastly different things.”  I stared up at the gossamer particles of Jupiter’s rings, almost invisible to the eye. “One thing I know for sure; I absolutely don’t get in the middle of relationships. Not unless both parties consent and are willing participants.” 

 

“Both.” Sam’s eyes widened. “That’s … yeah, I’m gonna have to think on that one.” 

 

“You do that.” 

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

My arm stretched out on the rim of the hot tub, Bruce’s head laying in the crook of my shoulder as he told me about the last probe sent into Jupiter’s atmosphere. Tony was chattering away about some way to build a lab that could float on a string and take readings. On my other side, Bucky was kicked back, his mechanical arm and hand out of the water while his flesh and blood hand was tracing figure eights on the inside of my thigh.  Someone’s toes were lazily sliding up and down my shin. 

 

“Never seen one like this.”  Tony tapped my clan tattoo. “Always have borders on top and bottom, but you only have one.”  

 

“Tony, you’re not supposed to ask things like that,” Pepper said from her chair nearby. Her hair had come loose from her chignon. “Remember the last time we were on Danu? When you almost got thrown out of the negotiations?” 

 

“They said to entertain myself!” Tony protested. “If they didn’t want me in their labs, they should have been clearer.” 

 

“It’s alright; I don’t mind,” I told her. “The borders are for the person’s parents’ clans, but my father was an off-worlder, so there was wasn’t one. I’m outbred.” 

 

“I didn’t think they allowed that.” Pepper leaned forward. “I mean, they’re so strict about birth control for visitors …” 

 

“Told you that rule was just for me.” Tony seemed quite pleased if that was true. 

 

“Birth control is our responsibility if you have sex with off-worlders,” I told him. “Dad worked atmo construction on the visitor’s station expansion; mom cooked for the cafeteria of the main lodging ship. She wanted a kid, decided to use my dad, so she had my brother then me; Dad moved on to the next job and that was that.” 

 

“Wait.”  Sam squinted at me. “Outbred? Like the opposite of …” 

 

“Inbred. Yeah, I know what it means on other planets; every off-worlder who hears it makes the joke.”

 

“Danueans don’t mix with other races; it’s part of their culture to choose childbearing partners within the clan system,” Bruce explained. “It’s mostly about raising kids in their traditions. That’s why they don’t leave the planet either; harder to attain levels and stay on the path when you live among those who don’t follow the Way.”

 

“Had to be weird,” Tony said. “Being different. I tell you, much as I enjoy the sex and the food and the money we make on deals brokered by you guys, most of the Danueans I met had a stick up their ass. Here’s how we do it and isn’t it so much better than what you do kind of attitudes.” 

 

“Can’t deny that,” I agreed. “But we get some things right.” 

 

“The whole two rules thing. Age and consent,” Bucky said. “Simple and to the point.” 

 

“Yeah, but what about alcohol? Doesn’t that fuck up consent?” Sam asked. “Like lowered inhibitions and shit?” 

 

“That’s easy,” I said with a smile. “Only get drunk with people you're willing to have sex with. Problem solved.” 

 

“See, proves my point,” Tony went back to his argument. “Clint’s answer makes sense. Last time we were there, we got this big lecture about what constitutes consent. Three hours of legalese and double talk, blowing smoke up my ass.”

 

“They’re just protecting our culture,” I protested. 

 

“Sorry, Clint, but anyplace that would kick you out can’t be all that good,” Steve drawled.  I’d thought he was asleep. 

 

I didn’t know what to say to that, so I didn’t say anything.  I did, however, feel warm and tingly and it wasn’t just from Bucky’s hand sliding higher up my thigh. 

 

_ ~~~~ _

 

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Stane is insisting I patch him through to you.” 

 

I blinked and pushed away from the edge of the pool as the mechanical voice interrupted the music. Most of the others had gone downstairs, the lure of fresh food calling.  Pepper had already gone to bed, and Phil had been shanghaied once he admitted to being able to bake, something about scones and clotted cream. Over at the bar, Tony rolled his eyes as he shook the empty bottle, draining the last drops into his glass. 

 

“I am not available for the … seventh? eighth? … time this evening. Tell Obie I’m in the bath or the lab or something and can’t answer the phone.”  

 

The air was cold on my skin as I grabbed a towel from the lounge next to a sleeping Bruce. 

 

“Mr. Stane has reminded me that, as CEO of Stark Industries, he has the right to override my privacy protocols when it comes to emergencies and he says this is one.” 

 

“Damn it,” Tony cursed. “I knew I should have changed that coding.” 

 

“What’s the problem?” Bucky looked up as he lounged in the hot tub. 

 

“Last thing I need is Obie asking questions and he will if he figures out where I am and who’s here.”  Tony glanced at Bruce. “If I narrow the vid beam that’s a dead giveaway I’m hiding something.”    
  


“Sir?” JARVIS asked again. 

“Then don’t hide anything. Distract him by showing everything.”  Probably not my best pick up line, but, hey, it was an opening … heh … and I took it. 

 

Tony’s eyes widened then he grinned. “I fucking love you, Barton. Where and how?” 

 

“Hot tub.” I glanced at Bucky. “You want to join in?” 

 

“Got enough fine whiskey in me to dance naked on a Cathedral’s lawn, so yeah, if it means I get my hands on you again, I’m in.” 

 

“Then get your suit off and let’s get this show on the road.” 

 

“JARVIS, tell Obie he really doesn’t want to talk to me right now then wait to put through his override until we’re ready.” Tony stripped off his trunks and grabbed some lube and second skin from a box on the counter; he pulled a chair to the edge of the tub. “Chop chop, get naked.”

 

“What did I say, just his type,” Bucky muttered to me. “A cluster in the making.”

 

“Hey, whoa, I thought you hated me.” Tony pointed to Bucky. “Unless this is angry sex because I am soooo into angry sex. An angry threesome. Yeah. I’m on board.” 

 

“Screw you, Stark. I’m here to tap this ass.” Bucky smacked me. “Let’s get moving before the baking brigade comes back.” 

 

“Sex and snacks.” Tony laughed and dropped down into the chair. “And I get to piss Obie off. Best day ever. 

 

“Sir?” JARVIS asked. “He’s invoked the protocol. Connecting in 20 … 19 …”

 

Never let anyone say I don’t perform well under pressure. Standing in the water, I lifted Tony’s leg and draped his knee over my shoulder, scooping his balls in my palm and effectively hiding my tattoos. Sheathed the second skin on quickly, and I had my mouth on his stirring cock, rolling it on my tongue and pressing along the vein on the underside. 

 

“Oh, hell, yes. Knew you’d be good,” Tony sighed. “Caboose guy, tuck your arm around him; we design those and Obie will recognize … Fuck yeah.” 

 

“Wow, he’s a mouthy bitch.” Bucky might have complained but he did what Tony asked. “You going to get it up after that handjob in the pool?” 

 

“You’ll have to work at it,” I told him, “but I have faith you can fuck it right back up.” 

 

“5 … 4 …”

 

Bucky was magic with his hand, perfect pressure at just the right angle. He went straight for the spot, his thumb buried deep and his fingers rubbing behind my balls. And, God, his mouth, what wicked, wicked things James Buchanan could do with his lips. I moaned around Tony’s dick as teeth nipped at the skin under my ear. 

 

“Tony! Don’t you dare cut me off, you little shit. I need … Jesus Christ!”  The man’s voice boomed out of the speakers. 

 

“Told you I was …” Tony groaned as I squeezed with my fingers and sucked hard. “... busy, Obie.” 

 

“Ah, oh God.” That was a quality pornographic sound muffled with a mouth full of a twitching cock. 

 

“Gonna take it up the ass.”  Bucky hid his chuckle by biting down on my shoulder. “Take it real hard.” 

 

“You’re sick, Tony. There’s work to do and you’re off fucking some trash you picked up where? In one of those shit hole bars you like to hang out in? For God’s sake, you’ve got to grow up.” 

 

Trash. This guy was a real winner. I already didn’t like him, so, just to piss him off, I reached up to tweak Tony’s nipple hard enough to make him jump. 

 

“Just because you’re repressed doesn’t mean …” Tony wrapped his fingers in my hair and started to fuck my mouth with quick thrusts, “ … I can’t have a little fun.” 

 

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” 

 

Buck nuzzled his nose into the curve of my neck and whispered, “Can you get a knee up on the edge? Open yourself wider?” 

 

I damn well made it happen even if I had bow my body to ensure Stane had an unimpeded view of Bucky lining up and sliding in.  

 

“Nope. So talk or … go away, Obie. Or get your rocks off ... by watching. I … don’t … care …”

 

Never been ashamed of my body -- nudity was commonplace growing up and images of sex were not forbidden or hidden.  There were places you could go to watch or be watched if exhibition was your thing. Personally, I liked being involved, had a thing about being left out that didn’t take therapy to trace back to my childhood; I didn’t have a problem with the concept of sex as a performance, just had never felt the urge to strip and get busy on a stage.  

 

Maybe it was being filled, mouth and ass, fucked from both sides -- yeah, that was a personal favorite that I didn’t need to overthink ‘cause the why was obvious -- or maybe it was the right amount of alcohol and an evening spent with people who were fast becoming friends. Might even have been Bucky and Tony specifically, the simmering tension flowing from Bucky to Sam and Tony to Steve, like stepping between an electric current and feeling the charge run up and down my spine.  A mediator, facilitator, an open doorway … open, heh … that led to release and maybe connections. Or it could be sticking it to this guy who made Tony’s brow furrow, chased the relaxed smile from Tony’s face; Tony had almost let his guard down and now this asshole was yammering on about board members and Tony being a fuck-up of epic magnitude … damn it no wonder Tony didn’t believe anyone could really care for him if this Stane was his father figure. 

 

“...Von Doom’s system and he’s on the warpath thinks you did it. Something about lost revenue and some customers you ran off …” 

 

“I’d say Victor can suck my dick, but this is one hell of a blow job right now and I doubt he could measure up. Been sucked and fucked for days, and let me tell you, this is going down as the best week ever..” 

 

“Damn it, you’re ten times worse than your old man when it comes to thinking with your dick. At least Howard got business done; you’re next to useless …”

 

Tony didn’t deserve this. What he needed was a spectacular orgasm, to come so hard he’d forget about this idiot and I could do that.  Sublimate self, practice mindfulness, focus on the weight of Tony’s cock on my tongue, how Bucky was stretching, filling me. Take the sparks that flew every time Bucky hit my prostate and use them to light my Svadhisthana chakra. Tighten my ab muscles and send that fire up to my throat, sucking Tony in deeper, burning away his doubts and anxiety.  Energy churning, permeating, overflowing …

 

“Oh.” Tony’s eyes widened as he tensed. “Oh my God. That’s …” 

 

He came and I swallowed him whole, blowing wide my senses as I clenched around Bucky who stuttered and cursed and pulsed into me.  My mind left my body, flung out into the universe, spreading past stars and planets and black holes. I saw it all for one brief heartbeat, enormity beyond comprehension, but still so small and simple. Fate nothing more than a story already written, my place too infinitesimal to see, others writ so much larger on the galactic stage. Then I tumbled back into myself, shaking with the force of my own climax.  Warm water and strong arms enveloped me, Tony on the left and Bucky on my right.  

 

“Jesus, Barton, that was some mighty fine cock-sucking; you damn near exploded my brain.” Tony chuckled. “Never bought into that mystical woo-woo about sex and seeing God, but, damn. Might be true.” 

 

“What happened to Stane?” I roused myself to ask. “Did he stay through the finale?” 

 

“Mr. Stane disconnected shortly before the denouement,” JARVIS informed them. “And if I may, the others are almost finished in the kitchen and should be returning shortly.” 

 

“No naked cuddling?” Tony pouted. 

 

“Cuddling? Seriously?” Bucky got out of the hot tub. “You don’t seem like the cuddling type, Stark.” 

 

“First off, it’s Tony. We just banged the same guy so we’re connected. Second, stereotype much?” Tony caught the trunks Bucky threw at him. “Third, I’m building you a new arm. That model has so many bugs it should be exterminated.”

 

“No.” Bucky handed me mine then stepped into his own. “I don’t take no charity.” 

 

“God save me from hard-headed Bluecoats,” Tony sighed. “Bet I can get you to agree with one word.” 

 

“No.” Bucky glared at him. 

 

“Vibranium.” Tony grinned. 

 

“Damn you, okay.”

 

_ ~~~~ _

“What did you say was in these? Pineapple and something else?” Stretched out on a lounge chair, I popped the last bite of my fourth scone in my mouth. Pretty sure Steve had eaten six so far along with with a half a leftover pizza; I’d had three more slices myself after I’d switched over to whiskey.  

 

“Macadamia nuts and white chocolate nibs.”  Phil was in the lounge next to me, eyes half-closed. Only the light of the planet and stars illuminated the room, Tony having decided we needed to change the mood. 

 

“Didn’t know chocolate could be white.”  I rolled my shoulder so Natasha’s head rested more securely. Half on, half off my chest, she’d fallen asleep twenty … thirty? … minutes ago.  

 

“Technically, it’s not; there’s no cocoa powder in it.”  Phil rolled his head to look at me. “People seemed to like ‘em though.” 

 

I snorted. “Did you see Tony inhaling ‘em? Yeah, we liked ‘em.”

 

“Sex’ll do that, make you hungry.”

 

“Sex?” I tried to feign innocence, but Phil didn’t buy it. 

 

“You and Tony and Bucky. In the hot tub. With the chair.” He chuckled; God, Phil Coulson was an adorable drunk. “When Stane called. Tony told me. And Steve. And Sam. Probably tell Pepper in the morning. Said it was the best blow job ever.” 

 

I shrugged; Natasha grumbled so I tightened my hold around her waist and waited until she settled. “Is this the part where I pretend to be embarrassed? I’m still figuring out how this whole ‘sex isn’t something we talk about’’ thing is supposed to work. It was good, and I enjoyed it.” 

 

“I admire that about you,” Phil said. “How open and free you are about who you are. Me, I’ve spent too many years pretending and hiding and be circumspect; takes some of these,” he held out his glass, “to lose my inhibitions. Must be nice not to have any.” 

 

“Oh, I have inhibitions. Most of them sound like my sensei or my fourth foster mom.  Don’t show fear. Live up to the clan expectations. Don’t talk so much. Stop being such an ass.”  Ever since whatever that mystical moment was earlier, I’d been strangely calm; even bringing up bad memories didn’t faze me. “Right now, however, I’m comfortably drunk enough for them to be muted. The sweet spot between buzzed and blackouts.” 

 

“Where you know what you’re doing, you can say what you want and don’t stress about it.”  Phil sighed. “It’s nice.” 

 

We sat companionably, listening to the rise and fall of the conversation from the pool, Steve telling a story about his and Bucky’s childhood -- a bully and a fistfight and a stolen pet pig -- while Tony sprawled on a float. Bucky occasionally tossed in his version of events from where he and Sam lolled on chairs of their own. 

 

Twice Phil opened his mouth to speak but stopped. 

 

“Thought you weren’t stressing about it,” I said. 

 

“Obviously need another drink.”  He sipped, swallowed, then sat it down. “Just wondering why, that’s all. I shouldn’t ask ‘cause I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but there it is.” 

 

My whiskey-soaked brain needed a minute but I got there. “Ah. Why. Yeah.” 

 

“You don’t have to answer. It’s just you’re so open about it with everyone else …” 

 

“And you want to know why not you?”  Something bloomed in my chest, a surety that I’d never felt before. “You ever heard of the teachings of the Twelfth Sensai on Pleasure and Pity? What he says about the difference between the body and the sacral root?” 

 

Phil shook his head. 

 

“Let that which gives bodily pleasure have its place but do not mistake the physical with the sacred. For that which transcends the body is a distinct gratification and must, as such precious things always are, be met with slow deliberation and complete circumspection.” 

 

“I don’t understand.” 

 

Neither had I. Not until this moment, this place, this person.  If I could touch the divine with Steve or Bucky or Tony, where would I go with Phil? How much more could I become? 

 

“You’re different.”  I took a deep breath. “It wouldn’t be just sex.” 

 

His eyes widened, those blue depths startled by the revelation. 

 

“We should talk,” he finally said. “When we’re not …” 

 

“Sober would be good.” I reached over and brushed his hand with mine. “Then we open negotiations.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kicked my ass. I rewrote the first section so many times then all these scenes demanded to be added to the end. Everyone wanted their moment. As always, I'm not a scientist and no next to nothing about gamma radiation. I do, however, read a lot about black holes and M theory for fun, so there's that. 
> 
> A teenage Peter who gets bitten then sick ... *winks*
> 
> Couldn't resist the Star Trek reference :)
> 
> The reference to the Thirteenth sensei is my own; for once I didn't steal from the Te Tao. :)
> 
> Time to start learning more about Clint's life on Danu ...
> 
> The shit's going to hit the fan in the next chapter. Hold on, it's time for action.


	22. Inter-chapter #11: ULAANBAATAR PROVINCE VS. MANDARIN INDUSTRIES Official Negotiation Brief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ULAANBAATAR PROVINCE VS. MANDARIN INDUSTRIES  
> Official Negotiation Brief  
> 1410 U.G. 713, 293 G. Ct. 737, 435 L. Ed. 2d 14, 2862 G.S. DANU 887

**ULAANBAATAR PROVINCE VS. MANDARIN INDUSTRIES**

**Official Negotiation Brief**

### 1410 U.G. 713, 293 G. Ct. 737, 435 L. Ed. 2d 14, 2862 G.S. DANU 887

 **STATEMENT:**  Home to the largest production facilities of Mandarin Industries, the Ulaanbaatar Province on Mongol Second requested arbitration to bring an end to abusive employment practices, violence, and environmental contamination.  Counsel for the company argued that the province perfectors did not represent the local population and that historical tribal conflict was the cause of the damage to persons and property.  

 

 **GOAL:** To put an end to hostilities and raise the standard of living for all who call Ulaanbaatar home. 

 

 **NEGOTIATION TEAM:**   Danuean Team 27 was assigned mediator status and given chamber 19 in the Grand Hall for the duration of the talks.  Chief Adjudicator was Carson Tiboldt, Ailbhean Klan, and Intermediate Adjudicator was Jessica Drew, Paukov Klan.

 

 **NEGOTIATION PARTNERS:**  The Galactic Alliance Counsel on Intercene Relations (GACIR), Doctors Without Borders (DOB), Stop the Spread of Terrorism Project (SSTP), Alliance Command D Region 12 (D-Company), and the Prophecy Project (PP).  

 

 **FACTS:**   Detailed data on 200 plus deaths including eyewitness testimony, pictures, and internal company documentation was presented.  Numerous test samples of the area adjacent to the facility showed significant contamination from plant run-off. Violations of galactic regulations and standards for munition production were added to evidence.  Whistleblower testimony proved both the Board and the Chief Officers were not only aware of the situation but actively encouraged plant supervisors to “shut down the locals” to avoid public scrutiny. 

 

 **AGREED:**   The arbitration team found sufficient evidence to back the Province Prefectors claims and put forward an agreement that called for Mandarin to close the facility, admit wrongdoing, pay restitution, and clean up the contamination. 

 

 **CONCLUSION:**   Negotiations were interrupted on 07.2862.43 and terminated without a conclusion. 

 

 **CONSEQUENCE:**   The facility at Ulaanbaatar was shut down with extreme prejudice by a Danuean force reconnaissance team on 21.2862.43.  

 

 

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE:**   I found this brief buried in the 3121 document dump about the galactic trials after the end of the Ten Rings War.   There is no attribution to an author nor a date of when it was prepared; it was used to buttress the prosecutor's argument that Mandarin Industries had a history of sympathy and support for terrorist causes.  Ulaanbaatar was a relatively remote sector at the time the negotiation took place; now it is highly industrialized and part of the K'un Lun Consortium.  I did find a historian who specialized in oral histories of the area; the destruction of the Mandarin's base, as stories now call it, by Danuean forces has become a mythical tale of how the people rose up against oppressive ideology.  As Mandarin Industries went out of business over 150 years ago, this document stands as an example of Danuean negotiation at work. What exactly is meant by "terminated without a conclusion" is unknown; this phrase has never before appeared in any of the surviving records. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yep, that's the Mandarin and Ten Rings from Iron Man fame. Using them for my own ends. 
> 
> Might see a familiar name in here if you look real hard ...


	23. Chapter #11:  In the Beginning was the Word ...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint sleeps in, gets a workout, and starts to put it all together. Negotiations get started, Phil surprises Clint, and an unwelcome visitor shows up.

“Up and at ‘em, tiger.”  

 

I blinked and tried to focus. 

 

“Come on, slug-a-bed. Here, drink this.” 

 

I grumbled but sat up and took the cup, tossing it back. 

 

“Oh, Gah, what the fuck …” 

 

Like thick oil, the stuff oozed down my throat, bitter taste burning as an awful smell cleared out my nose 

 

“Hangover cure, a Stark special. Tastes like shit, but does its job.”  Natasha handed me a glass of water to chase it with. “Give it a few minutes.” 

 

My head cleared, the pounding slowly disappearing.  “What time is it?” 

 

“You slept for over twelve hours,” she told me. 

 

“Twelve … Bruce should have gotten the results back.”  I stood up, scratched my scalp, and headed into the bathroom that was bigger than the bunk we’d shared on the ship. 

 

“They’ve got the success rate up to 87%.”  She leaned against the counter as I stripped off my underwear and stepped into the shower.  Hot water poured out of all the jets; I reached for the shampoo. “He’s processing delivery systems and Pepper’s working up costs of manufacturing. Phil’s hip-deep in chasing patents and registration.” 

 

“That’s good.”  Being clean felt wonderful; it had been far too long since I had the luxury to stand under the spray for as long as I wanted. “Get out ahead of ‘em; there’s power in the truth.” 

 

“You and I both know that won’t be enough; sometimes the dragon wins.”  

 

I grabbed one of those scrubbing sponges and lathered up. “Long as one person is saved, that’s the way I look at it.” 

 

“Hopeless romantic,” she said. “Didn’t think you and Phil had that in common. Open negotiations? Really?” 

 

My stomach flopped then growled, empty and more than a little discombobulated at Phil’s name. “That’s what I said to you too.” 

 

“I know.” She stood up. “Don’t stay in there all day; I need a sparring partner and you haven’t seen the gym.  Stark’s got equipment in there that I’m pretty sure isn’t for working out.” 

 

“Sex is a workout!” I called as she left.  

 

The shampoo smelled like apples … at least I think that’s what apples smelled like. Who really knew? … and the cotton pants and shirt I slipped into were simple grey and probably cost a shit ton of money.  I got no problem taking Stark’s handouts to a certain extent and one set of clothes didn’t bother me in the least. Food first, so I padded down to the kitchen, opened the giant cooler unit and happy danced as I gathered up the makings of a lovely breakfast.  Ham sliced so thin I could see through it, salty with a crust of spice. Three different cheeses, dry crumbly cheddar, soft camembert, smokey gouda. Thick dense brown bread to rip apart and creamy butter to spread over it. Juice that I didn’t recognize by taste but liked anyway.  I spread it out on a plate and munched as I waited for the dark black nectar of the bean that fueled my body to percolate. One sip of the steaming coffee and I was in heaven; it was the real stuff, not dried or processed or artificially flavored. Tony lived high on the hog and I was going to drink as much as I could before … well, whatever came next.  

 

I filled mu cup a second time and took the last of the bread and butter with me as I rambled to the lab’s doorway, waving to Bruce when he looked up then leaving him to his work.  The lines in his forehead had disappeared, the bags under his eyes not as dark. Phil, I found working with Pepper in an office bursting at the seams with high tech gadgets and screens.  I left them to their legal wrangling, wandered down to the docking bay and up the ramp into the Dodger.  

 

“... superconducting cooling system back online before we can test the new rotors,” Tony was saying.  “Stand by that control panel and tell me what relays are in overload position …” 

 

Tony was on a step stool, bent almost double, his head and shoulders deep in the engine. Behind him, Steve was blatantly ogling Tony’s ass instead of the panel on the wall. 

 

“Well, Cap, what do you see?” Tony asked. 

 

I saw the flash of humor in Steve’s eyes. “I guess red means stop and green means we’re good?” 

 

“What?” Tony nearly banged his head as he popped up, wobbling for balance. “Why, Captain Rogers, it’s so nice to hear you know the basics of how the machinery operates.”

 

“I know my ship, Stark. Inside and out.” 

 

No way I was going to interrupt that little tete-a-tete; those two were on a collision course and it was going to be a spectacular crash when it happened. So I wandered into the crew section, checked out the cabins -- not bad but in need of a good cleaning -- then heard more voices coming from the bridge. 

 

“... the reverse thrusters to slow the lift-off. Ease back, and you build drag energy slower.”    


Bucky was in the pilot’s seat. Standing behind him, Sam leaned over and put his hand over Bucky’s on the throttle stick. 

 

“Drag energy? You’re full of shit, Flyboy,” Bucky said. “You’re making that up.” 

 

“Take Bernoulli's equation of pressure in liquid, add the coefficient variables, and yeah, you can build enough to blow your load and punch your way into hyper-speed without a payload.”  Sam tilted his head until he was right near Bucky’s ear. “It’s a hell-of-a-ride, I promise.” 

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”  

 

I beat a hasty retreat, leaving them to their own devices. Seems a night in the hot tub was the nudge they needed.  Certainly worked for Phil and that thought made a lovely little ball of heat take up residence in my chest. Later. We’d talk later. 

 

After a pass through the kitchen to drop off the mug, I found my way to the gym and stood in the door, drooling over the flat-out amazing space. Wooden dojo floors at one end with a wall full of mirrors and a barre. Every type of weight and machine, practice weapons lined neatly on the wall, an area for sparring and another for stretching and yoga. 

 

“Wait until you see what’s behind door A and B.” Natasha was stretched, back in a perfect arch. “But first …” 

 

She kicked my ass in hand-to-hand until I was aching from hitting the floor. But I got even once she showed me the firing range; felt damn good to pull and draw at targets that shifted further away and grew smaller and smaller.  Having an A.I. who could run simulations was amazing. Somewhere after the fourth quiver of arrows, Sam and Bucky joined us. Bucky was almost as good as I was with long rifles and blasters and pistols and pretty much any projectile weapon that wasn’t a bow, but I smoked him with darts and knives.  Sam turned out to be compact muscle, rolling with the punches and having innate balance. Came from fighting while airborne, he explained, and being used to a 360-degree attack vector. That led to the discovery of a room where JARVIS could change gravity and some new bruises in very strange places as the rest of us tried to land a blow while in free fall. 

 

I took a second shower after because I could then continued exploring while the others started up a vid on the giant screen, snacks and drinks scrounged from the vast pantry.  Found a library with real books, paper, and ink and leather-bound, and some super comfortable chairs that I marked for nap time. Explored the bottommost level with its humming blue reactor … I had no clue what kind of energy it produced … and rooms full of conduits and machinery.  Came across a sauna and an armory and a laundry room where I ran into a barrel-chested, waist-high bot folding towels and making piles to deliver to the rooms.  

 

Off the pool area, I stumbled upon a circular staircase that led up to another doorway; inside were plants and trees and green grass, some flowers in bloom, others just buds.  Rows of herbs and vegetables, tended by more bots who rolled along the walkways, their long arms pruning and weeding and harvesting. One beeped at me when I blocked its way.

 

“Sorry,” I told it when it turned in a circle and beeped again, but I hesitated to step off the path. 

 

“You are welcome on the grass, Mr. Barton,” JARVIS told me. “If you would remove your shoes, it would be appreciated.” 

 

Cool between my toes, the grass was springy and ever so slightly warm from the artificial light that mimicked the sun.  A neatly trimmed space abutted another translucent wall; as I sat down and crossed my legs in a lotus position, I could see both the darkness of space and a luscious red apple hanging from a nearby branch.  The steady but quiet hum of the robots was the only sound, and I easily sank into my breathing, relaxing my shoulders and resting my hands loosely on my knees.  

 

Meditation came easily to me up to a point; mindful of my body, I let go the tension in my shoulders and my chest, pulled up groundedness from my feet and lightened the pressure in my head.  I could float here, aware and at rest, and recharge my energy without much effort. But beyond that, I had always struggled. Clearing my mind was nigh on impossible and expanding up and out in consciousness had always escaped me. Like now, as soon as I tried to think of nothing, the memory of Bucky laughing as he somersaulted into the pool crossed my mind.  I pushed it away only to be replaced with Sam effortlessly spinning in mid-air. Like a parade, images and smells and sounds and textures came, one after the other. A smear of grease on Tony’s cheek. The curve of Steve’s bowed head and neck. Bruce’s half-smile and satisfied eyes. Natasha, face soft and vulnerable as she slept. Phil. The scar on his chest, the tattoo on his back, the open question in his eyes. 

 

I sighed. Sensei had despaired that I couldn’t let go of my senses and be free of worldly things; time and again, I was left behind as others progressed on in their studies. A familiar frustration rose in my throat, the choking sensation of failure; I shoved it down because, damn it all to hell, I wasn’t sitting in the temple now, and there was no one here to judge my technique. Shaking it off, I quit trying to stop the images and let them come. Reveled in the memory of wet skin and droplets of sweat, soft lips and hungry kisses, tightly clasped fingers and gentle touches. I dragged my inner eye over Bucky’s biceps, Steve’s chest, Tony’s thighs. Pulled in close to Natasha’s hug, Bruce’s smile, and Phil’s calm voice. Felt the chuckle at Sam’s joke and Bucky’s teasing. So many scars on bodies and minds and souls, and still so beautiful. Fingers, God, such facile fingers and wide chests and big hearts. None of them perfect, all of them flawed and tender but open and willing and so fucking sharing.  

 

Everyone described it as rising, leaving your body and becoming one with the universe. But I submerged, going inward, multiplying. Connected, seeing, remembering, knowing …

 

_“Obviously need another drink.”  Phil sipped, swallowed, then sat it down. “Just wondering why, that’s all. I shouldn’t ask ‘cause I’m not sure I want to know the answer, but there it is.”_

 

_~~_

 

_“Those definitely weren’t Alliance guys; they were too well outfitted. Doubt they were local; I’ve been here a week and there’s not really a market for a high-powered team like that,” Sam said. “Even Phil would have a hard time rustling up a crew, and he’s the best handler out here.”_

 

_~~_

  


_“... on the quiet side when we …”  Phil Coulson paused as he entered, following Natasha through the door.  Those changeable eyes raked me from head-to-toe, cataloging every sheath and holster then settled on my arm where my tattoos were on full display.  As he gave me another of those little half-smirks, I remembered I’d worn long sleeves last night. “You’ve been keeping things from me, Natasha, not that that’s a surprise.”_

 

_“His name is Clint.” She shrugged in that elegantly casual way of hers and kept walking to where her things were already packed in her small bag. “We’ve got a small window of opportunity, gentlemen, let’s not let omitted details get in the way. We can leave now and have an extra hour to plan.”_

 

_~~_

  


_“Never got planetside; they kept us on one of the Alliance cruisers in orbit.” Steve shrugged. “Seen way too much of the inside of one of those holding cells; it was touch and go there for a bit once everything was over, but finally decided to head further out and Buck and I haven’t looked back since.”_  


_“Touch and go.” Bucky huffed, wiping grease off his hands with a dirty rag. “That’s Steve being nice; he was ready to take on the whole damn Alliance to get me back once he realized I was alive. Honestly thought I was hallucinating when he showed up and dragged me out of that hell; had to keep him from kicking every single one of their asses and just get me off that rock.”_

 

_~~_

  


_“A swap meet.  Pick up in one place, take it to another, swap, do it again.  Four stops total. I’ll even pay your way back to this hell hole when we’re done if that’s what you want.”  Natasha looked me up and down. “But I don’t think it is.”_

 

_~~_

  


_“I supposed to be meeting someone, but I don’t think they’re going to show.” Bruce swirled the liquid in his glass. “Surprised to see a Danuean; never heard of one living off-planet.”_

 

_~~_

  


_“Sorry about this, Clint, but you know the rules.” Carol’s face fell. “I tried, but I couldn’t do anything. They didn’t even let me speak at the hearing …”_

 

_~~_

  


_Breathing, heart pounding, punches… shouting, crashing chairs, screams … running, searing pain, darkness_

 

_~~_

 

 “Clint.” 

 

I opened my eyes and met Phil’s concerned gaze. 

 

“I know I shouldn’t interrupt a meditation trance, but you cried out like you were in pain.”  

 

The words and feelings twisted around my spine, settling at the base of my neck. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make sense of the disjointed memories. 

 

“Everyone’s gathering for dinner.”  Phil touched my shoulder, the warmth of his hand a tether that pulled me back into the now. “Natasha didn’t think you’d eaten since breakfast so …” 

 

My stomach grumbled and I realized I really had to pee.  “Kind of early, isn’t it? I didn’t think Tony would surface until night time.”  

 

Phil offered me his other hand and I was grateful for the help getting to my feet. “You’ve been up here for six hours; it’s night, Clint.” 

 

“I …” still didn’t have complete control over my brain or my mouth “... really? I just saw you in the office and I thought …” 

 

“We’ve pretty much got done what we can here; going to have to get lawyers involved and file the paperwork in person as a hard copy. We’ll need all our ducks in a row before we do that, so we’re at a stopping point; Pepper’s going to have to head back to the office,” Phil said. “I was hoping after dinner, you and I could …” 

 

“Talk.” Yeah, that part I remembered; it was easy with his hand still holding mine, our fingers intertwined. “Sounds like a plan.”  

 

 “Good.”

 

Another stomach rumble and we both chuckled.   


“Okay, Dinner then talk.” 

 

We ate in the living room, eschewing the formal dining table for plates balanced on our laps.  Filled to the edges with salad, roasted veggies, a big slab of steak -- real beef, not processed or synthesized or whatever the tasteless crap they passed off as meat in most places nowadays -- and a roll the size of my hand, we ate and talked and laughed.  

 

Bruce was giddy with delight at the results he’d gotten with JARVIS’s help.  Tony babbled in the language of machines, far too excited about pistons and gears and arc power. Even Steve couldn’t hide his happiness at seeing his beloved ship polished and primped to surpass her former glory.  Over on the loveseat, Sam and Bucky alternated between snarky comments and sappy grins; if they didn’t fall into bed tonight, it was only because they were enjoying the run-up to the main event so much.  

 

And yet, my mind still reeled from earlier like I was half-drunk on the universe itself.  The moments broke into bits and pieces, re-arranged themselves into new and different configurations. I caught Natasha watching me and remembered that first look in the booth of that bar, the way she’d raked her eyes along my tattoos and decided between heartbeats to trust me. Now, I knew that was hard for her, offering up her vulnerabilities to someone else, much less a stranger. To fall asleep on me, put her body literally in my hands, was a big deal. What had she seen in me?

 

“... move into your cabin?” Sam asked. Took me a full two seconds to realize he was talking to me. 

 

“My cabin?”  Obviously, I’d missed an important part of the conversation. 

 

“Your stuff. Move in. Your cabin.”  Sam spoke slowly. “You’re in outer space, Barton.  Come back down and join us. We’re talking about who’s getting which cabin now that they’re cleaned up and the life support’s back online.  Since Bucky’s being all territorial about his …” 

 

“Ain’t moving just so you have a shorter walk to the bridge,” Bucky stated. “Captain and the EXO have the biggest ones, end of story.” 

 

“If we crash because I had to run up those stairs …”  Sam grinned as Bucky interrupted. 

 

“Then you’re a shit pilot for not being at the controls while landing. You and Clint can fight it out for who gets which one, but mine is not up for grabs.” 

 

“Wait, I get a crew cabin?”  Finally got the point, better late than ever. 

 

“Well, yeah.” Bucky kicked me with his foot. “You being crew and all.” 

 

I sat there with my mouth open, a completely unflattering look but I was too flabbergasted to care. 

 

“Doesn’t pay much and there’s the whole ‘shipping illegal cargo’ thing to get around, but we kind of assumed … now that your job for Natasha is over … we could use someone to negotiate deals and smooth the way …” Steve said. 

 

“Not to mention just having a Danuean on board’s gonna get us some serious respect, let us land at bigger ports,” Bucky continued. 

 

“Plus, if things get hairy, be nice to have a fighter like you at our backs,” Sam finished. 

 

“I mean, if you want to, of course,” Steve started to backtrack. “Your choice.” 

 

“I can do that.”  My throat closed up and damn it I was not going to cry. Nope. No way. 

 

And, just like that, the path forked, an unexpected way opening. It wasn’t any possible future I’d imagined, but I wanted it with a blinding sense of rightness in a way nothing had ever felt like before. 

 

“Well, then, you want the slightly bigger cabin on the external wall or the warmer one on the inside?  Figured if Phil stays with us, he’d want the one with the better comm unit, and Natasha can have the one with its own shower unit or the engineer’s …”  

 

“I called dibs on the engineer’s cabin already; Steve heard me,” Tony interrupted Sam. “I’ll need to be closer to my baby’s heart as I work on the upgrades. Gotta listen for any hiccups.” 

 

“You’re coming with?”  Bucky asked. “Really?” 

 

“How do you think I’m going to calibrate the new engine and your new arm?” Tony jumped up, putting his empty plate on the end table. “Speaking of which, JARVIS, send Dum-E up with the prototype.” 

 

“What about your company and your lab?” Phil asked from his place next to me, and, yeah, I noticed he hadn’t said yeah or nay about a cabin of his own.  With Tony, we’d be bursting at the seams; we might need to share and wouldn’t that be a delightful game of musical chairs. 

 

“Fun fact, I can do all the SI paperwork via comm and the net; just have to occasionally show up for command performances.  And it’s not like I don’t have lab access all over the system. With JARVIS installed, I can fabricate and design right there.”  Tony shrugged. “Pretty sure Pep and Obie would be happy for me to be busy traipsing around the galaxy, visiting SI locations and staying out of their hair … ah, time for the unveiling!” 

 

A robot rolled out of the elevator with something in its extendable claw; Tony took the wrapped object and patted the little guy on its chassis.  “Good job! Now go back to installing the new filament wire in the aft bilge space and be careful to not roll it.” He turned and whipped off the cover with a flourish. “Ta-da! The absolute latest in prosthetic technology combined with a kick-ass design and the universe’s strongest metal.” 

 

Light reflected off the burnished silver arm, articulated joints black lines that intersected and formed an intricate pattern.  It was a work of art, so far surpassing the mechanics of Bucky’s current prosthetic. 

 

“Holy hell, Stark.”  Bucky stood, took a step, then cautiously ran a finger along the curve of the elbow. “This is beyond the pale, man, I can’t believe you designed and made this in a day.” 

 

“I didn’t; looked up the serial number of that one you’re wearing and had all your measurements and calibrations in the file, so I wasn’t starting from scratch. Been working on the internal schematics for a while now … applications for more facile robotic arms for delicate work … so it was more pinch of this, dash of that, toss in some vibranium and little paint and, boom.”  Tony turned it over; in the center of the bicep were three concentric circles, a red star in the middle with two white rings. “Took the idea from the Bluecoat badge only made it a little darker and changed it a bit since, you know, doesn’t pay to advertise in the current environment.”

 

“Tony.”  Bucky blinked away what might have been a bit of moisture at the corner of his eye then looked to Steve for help. “I can’t take this, Steve. We made a deal; we do this on our own, no handouts.” 

 

“Think of all the others who need something like this and Tony can make that happen.  Might not be some special metal, but once he gets yours working, the rest can be cheaper and lighter and better than what’s available now. It’s not a handout, Buck,” Steve told him. 

 

“Actually, it kind of is.” Sam nudged Bucky with his foot. “A handout? Hand. Out.”

 

Bucky’s eyes widened then he cracked a grin. “You are such a little shit, Wilson, you know that?  Oh my God, Steve, we’ve got to find another pilot, I mean, really.”

 

“Aw, come on, Buck, I’m trying to lighten the mood over here. Give a guy a hand, will ya?” Sam shot back

 

“I just want to remind you that I can kick your ass,” Bucky tossed over his shoulder. “Single-handedly.” 

 

We all groaned; I threw my last bite of roll at them both.  The laughter lightened the moment but I caught the look that flitted across Steve’s face as he gazed at Tony. He was falling fast, peering past Tony’s protective layers and seeing the soft squishy insides. The two were so exactly what each other needed that I was almost convinced that this couldn’t be a coincidence. Had Phil known when he called Tony for help?  Or did Natasha manipulate us to this point, fitting us together like a puzzle only she could see? 

 

“You okay?”  Bruce asked when we found ourselves the only ones in the kitchen. “You seem out of it tonight.” 

 

He was right; I’d been fading in and out of the conversation the whole time. “I’m good.”

 

He raised an eyebrow and waited. Give a guy a couple of blowjobs and he becomes a good friend who worries about you. Didn’t expect to meet so many people who’d care about me.  

 

“You ever achieve cosmic consciousness? You know, leave your body, stop being one, become the universe? That level of meditation?” 

 

“Used to get to transcendence, but cosmic is way beyond my abilities,” Bruce said. “Is that what’s bothering you? You can’t do it now?” 

 

“Nah,”  I shook my head. “Never could do it no matter what sensei said or how hard I tried. Pretty much everyone believed it was because I was out-bred, that I was lucky to get as far as I did.”

 

Bruce huffed in displeasure. “You know the Danuean practice is only one of many types of meditation; one size doesn't fit all.”

 

“KInd of figuring that out,” I admitted. “To be honest, I’ve had more brushes with transcendence since I got kicked off-planet, and they’re really different from what I was taught.”

 

“Not surprising. They denied half your identity, Clint, expected you to be like them, and you most definitely are not.” Bruce put a hand on my arm. “You’re exploring who you are, not what someone told you to be.” 

 

“Oh.” That thought hadn’t entered my mind; all that worrying about what I was losing when I left, and I’d never imagined what I’d gain. “I tried so hard to clear my mind, to let go of earthly concerns and turns out that was exactly what I should be doing, focusing on how we’re connected.”  I squeezed his hand. “Tried to meditate earlier and I went inside, back through my memories of people and events. It’s been bugging me, what I remembered, why I pulled those specific moments to the surface. Thought I might be going a little crazy.” 

 

“Danu teachings say the Vishuddha is the eye you open to see the universe, but in Kabbalah, the Ajna chakra is more than that.  It’s where understanding and wisdom meet; they call it mystical intuition.” Bruce touched his forefinger just above my eyes. “It’s internal, knowing your self and your place in the music of the spheres. You go in and through, not up and out.” 

 

“You think that’s …” 

 

“I think you are one of the most intuitive people I’ve ever met; you see truth better than most yogis and senseis. I can only imagine the wider you open your third eye, the more of the big picture you’ll understand.”  Bruce leaned in and kissed the spot where his finger had been. “Trust yourself, Clint. Whatever the universe is trying to tell you is bound to be important.” 

 

That was quite a statement; trusting others was a lot easier than believing in myself. But Bruce might have a point about the details pointing to something. “In that bar when we first ran into each other, you told me you were waiting for someone who didn’t show. Was it Natasha?” 

 

Bruce looked surprised at the question. “No, it was Betty. We were going to meet up and run together; when she didn’t show I knew the General had found her. Crossing paths with you and Natasha was completely random; it was just a coincidence that we bumped into each other the next day too.” 

 

The attack in front of the store, Natasha and I falling in with Bruce, running to Steve and Bucky’s ship.  “You booked passage on the Dodger before you asked Natasha for help?” 

 

“Yes. She offered her aid once we were on board,” Bruce confirmed. “Why?” 

 

“Hell if I know.”  I kissed him on the cheek. “I need to think about it.” 

 

I skirted around the discussion of what to do as people scattered for their evening plans. Despite Bruce’s protests that he wasn’t that kind of doctor, he let Tony drag him along to the lab to test Bucky’s new arm. Pepper went to get her ship ready as Phil headed back to the office, giving me a nod to let me know he remembered.  I wanted to find someplace quiet to sit and think, to marinate in what Bruce had said; the library was too near the main room -- I could hear the explosions from the restarted vid -- and the garden was in night cycle, colder and darker. Finally, I settled on the sauna for the warmth and the closed door. I flicked on the heating element, stripped down, wrapped a fluffy towel around my waist then poured a ladle full of water over the rocks, sending steam billowing through the small space.  

 

So many chance happenstances, a line of what-ifs and accidental meetings. Bruce at the bar, Natasha across the table, Steve and Bucky at the port, Sam in the pub. Natasha bringing in Phil, Phil contacting Tony. An exiled Danuean, a scientist on the run, two ex-bluecoats, a retired Alliance officer, a mustered-out Falcon, and a billionaire genius mechanic. Steve and Bruce and Tony and Pepper had been on Danu for negotiations. Bucky at Borneo, with a Stark Industries prosthetic. Sam and Phil crossing paths, Phil at odds with Blonsky and Ross. Willinno Tech beating out SI for Alliance contracts and inadvertently creating the green plague that Bruce discovered a cure for. 

 

I didn’t believe in fate or karma or any divine intervention in human evolution. Maybe because I really don’t want a God or force in control if the green plague and abused kids and dead civilians were part of the plan. Nah, I might walk the path, but it was a path full of choices and the responsibility for making them. If I fuck up, well, I fuck up and deal with it. Sometimes the damage is caused by a Thaddeus Ross or a company or some asshole, and sometimes it’s just life-sucking because random shit happens.  

 

“You’re thinking again,” Phil said. “Am I interrupting?” 

 

“Not at all.”  I was more than happy to stop circling and focus on Phil; he was infinitely more fascinating a proposition than endless worrying. “Toss some more water on and join me.”

 

The towel he wore left little to my imagination, pulling across his ass as he leaned over; the steam billowed up and sweat formed on his skin, beads gathering before sliding over muscles. Yes, this was the best place to have this conversation; I was going to be very easily distracted, especially as the towel opened on one side when he sat down, a long, lean thigh on full display. Let the foreplay begin.

 

“So,” he said.

 

“So,” I said.

 

“Negotiation?”  he asked

 

“Negotiation,” I answered. 

 

He chuckled and leaned back on his elbows giving me a perfect view of the water droplet that hung on his nipple for a second before rolling off.  “I may have done some research this afternoon about negotiation on your planet,” he admitted. “Read that it’s one of your sacred principles.”  

 

“Not exactly.” There was way too much false information about Danuean history and culture floating around the galaxy.  Our refusal to share was, for a large part, to blame; the rest I chalked up to people being too willing to focus only on the titillating parts rather than the whole. “There are the triune principles of spirit, strength, and sexuality … or faith, fighting, and fucking as I like to call them ... but negotiation is the thread that holds them together. It all goes back to the founding of Danu; how much do you know about our history?”

 

“Just what most people do,” Phil admitted. “Three groups of colonists with disparate ideologies shared the same ship, bound for a world with three habitable continents. One wanted to establish a monastic enclave on the religious tenets of meditation, transcendence, and denial of the flesh. Another was a group borne of the free love movement and sexual revolution with a plan to live a communal and open life. And the third was a militant group of civilian soldiers who valued peace through physical prowess. The only thing they had in common was their desire to separate and isolate themselves from the rest of the universe,” Phil said. “Their destination was Altair 4, but the ship crashed on another planet; by the time help arrived, the survivors had named the place Danu and decided to stay.”

 

I snorted; God, I hated that simplistic, bloodless version of the tragedy that gave birth to my homeworld. “Seventeen years. That’s how long it took the so-called ‘help’ to arrive, and they wouldn’t have come at all if some wealthy corporation hadn’t gone to Altair 4 to seize part of the land for mining and development.  You know how many of the original settlers were alive when the Space Guard ship landed? Twelve percent. Only 36% survived the crash, and most of those died in the first few years from the storms and diseases and lack of food. Not to mention the indigenous predators. Catlings are domesticated now, but they have sharp teeth and can break a man’s neck with a twist of their paws.”  

 

“They glossed over so many deaths and failures back then; hell, we don’t even have complete records of all the expeditions and what happened to them.” Phil sighed. “We forget how it began and treat Danu is as a success story.” 

 

“Yeah, well they didn’t have much of a choice; they should have either killed each other or separated and died on their own. But they didn’t; instead, they sat down and put everything on the table, all their beliefs and rules and skills, then started the hard work of coming to some sort of agreement on how to live together and stay alive. Negotiation, at its most primal.  Life or death.”

 

“Joining their most fundamental ideas, even if they contradicted each other,” Phil said. “The motto carved in the Great Hall, the one everyone sees as they go inside:  ‘Paradox is life; negotiation is sacred; strength is the foundation.”

 

I nodded. “Everything’s open to negotiation. The very act of coming to the table is a sacrament. It can be a family deciding where to go on vacation, a couple divorcing, a business drawing up a contract, or the end of a war: the arbitration chamber is the holiest of holies. To violate the process or not abide by the agreed outcome is ...”

 

“The worst crime a Daneaun could commit.”  Phil’s eyes darted to my tattoos and my stomach clenched as they fell on the Ex Filo.  “No matter the reason?”

 

_“Sorry about this, Clint, but you know the rules.” Carol’s face fell. “I tried, but I couldn’t do anything. They didn’t even let me speak at the hearing …”_

 

“No matter the reason”  I agreed. 

 

Phil’s eyes were impossibly blue as they turned up towards my face.  “So how do we do this? Last night, that thing you said about drinking and consent, only getting drunk around those you wanted to have sex with.  How is that different from you and I dropping our towels and enjoying ourselves right now?” 

 

The thought of sweating bodies coming together made my mood lighten. “It’s not, not really. I could say I wanted to lay you out and ride you until you can’t remember your own name and proceed to do exactly that without any more conversation then we would go our own way afterward, happy and sated. But if we want more than the physical part, a higher level of intimacy, we talk beforehand. I don’t know what you expect from a relationship; most people tend to not verbalize what they want or like or need. On Danu, we’d share things like the people we’re already involved with, whether we want to be monogamous or open or something in-between, any specific sexual needs …”  

 

“Ah.”  Phil’s face cleared. “So this is where I’m supposed to say you can’t sleep with anyone but me and that I don’t like you being friends with someone you’ve slept with if we’re going to be at … what did you call it … a higher level of intimacy.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. Seems to be how people do it on the rest of the worlds. To be honest, I’ve never tried monogamy before so I don’t know what would happen, but if that’s what you want, I could, maybe …” 

 

Phil interrupted, placing a hand on my knee and leaning closer. “If I’ve got this right, the difference between sex and a relationship, then I’m okay with you having sex with others, assuming they consent and are of age, with one additional caveat. I’d like to know who you sleep with, not what you do, mind you, but that you’ve done it. Avoid confusion and awkwardness and someone trying to use the information for nefarious ends. That would be a dealbreaker, keeping sex partners a secret.” 

 

I wasn’t prepared for that declaration; I’d imagined a number of ways this talk would go, but Phil agreeing to an open relationship? “Wow, okay, give me a second here; you’ve got this negotiation thing down, don’t you?”

 

“Handling complicated tasks is my bread and butter; sometimes being straightforward is the best solution.”  Phil smiled. “As long as you’re coming home to me, I can deal.”

 

“Jesus, you’re perfect.”  I couldn’t stop myself; I closed the distance and kissed him, quick and hard. “First time I saw you at the diner, I suspected you were going to be worth the effort, and then you didn’t get upset on the ship, just accepted me, and, damn, you don’t know how hard that is, to find someone who doesn’t think I’m a visitor from the planet of the sluts or a prostitute …” 

 

“Okay, addendum … I presume negotiations are always open since life is an on-going affair … you are neither of those things and I will fight anyone who says so, including you. You are amazing, bad-ass, gorgeous, smart, strong, funny …”

 

I had to kiss him again if only to stop the embarrassing string of compliments I couldn’t live up to.  

 

“So, are we done for now or …” Phil asked as we broke apart. 

 

“Almost.”  I sucked in a breath and ignored the insistent demands of my dick. “Natasha.  She might be more than a friend …” 

 

“I know.”  Phil slipped his hand along the curve of my neck, fingers burrowing into my hair. “She told me and I’m really happy for her.  She doesn’t have a lot of people she trusts, and you’re good for her, so, yeah, I have no problem with it. And you’ve met Skye … she’s like an adopted daughter to me; if we’re involved, she’ll have something to say about it.” 

 

“She’s already given me her blessing, remember?”  I got a hand on Phil’s waist, skimming fingertips along the top of his towel. “We’ll be fine.  What about the others? Steve, Bucky, Bruce, Tony, Sam …” 

 

“Good men, all of them.” Phil swiped his thumb along my jaw. “Stark and Rogers will be combustible once they stop dancing around each other, and Bucky makes Sam smile. Pretty sure Bruce has a thing for Betty Ross. You’ve helped each of them, been their friend, released tensions, made them feel better. That’s another thing that I find so attractive about you, how selfless you are when it comes to helping others ...” 

 

“When it comes to helping others come?” I gave him a wicked grin as I loosened the knot keeping the towel in place. “Full disclosure, I get off on giving other people orgasms. Nothing makes me harder than watching eyes go glassy and hearing sighs of release. I fucking love it.” 

 

Phil squeezed his eyes shut for a heartbeat or two. “Jesus, Clint, how open you are, the way you just say those things.” 

 

“Truth in advertising.” I peeled the towel apart and dipped my hand into the dark hair curling around the base of his already hard cock. “Words are foreplay like touches of air mixed with thought and intention.”  The lightest of caress of the tip, a gentle stripe up and back. “They stir the body and the mind, open the spirit and communicate our desires.” Teasing, easy, a glancing pressure on the pulse point then back around again. “Let me give you want you want, Phil, begin building a bond between us, bringing you into me and me into you.” 

 

“What if what I want is for you to be happy?” Phil whispered, his lips almost grazing the skin of my cheek. “What if I want to make you complete, watch you fall over the edge?” 

 

“Yes.” I groaned as a warm tendril of breath tickled my ear. “I can do that.” 

 

“Then let me.”  

 

I gave over control, handed Phil the reins. Just feeling, not thinking or planning or meditating or worrying about the consequences. Always, I curtained off a section of me to curb my baser instincts and deny what had been deemed undesirable. To steer my mind in the correct path and guide my partner to their climax, constantly aware of that goal and that goal alone. No one had ever asked for all of me before and I wanted nothing more than to readily surrender everything to Phil. 

 

He laid me out on a bench, and I spread my arms and legs so he could settle between them. Then he kissed me on the mouth and trailed fire with his fingertips on every inch of skin.  Where he moved me, I went; what he told me, I did. Let me hear you, he said, and I opened my mouth to the sounds and words that spilled over my tongue and slipped between my lips. Let me taste you, he said, and I offered my body as a feast to appease his appetite, to be bitten and sucked and licked and squeezed and cupped.  

 

My fingers caressed and stroked, my lips sampled and savored, my hips lifted and rolled.  When he brushed his cock against my mouth, I opened and swallowed, nursing him as he moaned my name.  When he engulfed me, warm and wet, I widened my legs and arched my back as energy uncoiled and my muscles began to tremble. As he pushed a finger inside me, my senses expanded as my body was stretched; from root to crown, I buzzed with an intensity that shook me to my core.  

 

I gasped his name as he filled me, splitting me and inserting himself in all the gaps.  Sitting up, he pulled me on his lap and impaled me on his cock; tremors ran through me as he thrust and I rocked, a primal rhythm that seemed brand new. Not halves of a whole, but uniting in body and merging of souls, zero-sum and exponential expansion at the same time. We reveled in touch and taste and sight and sound, a coalescence of Phil and me, and me and Phil for now until the end of time and back again. 

 

Then I was spilling over his clenched fist and he was coming inside me and we were tangled so perfectly that there was no end and no beginning to separate us. 

 

“Phil.”  My breath was his breath, my heartbeat his own. 

 

“I …” Phil didn’t need to finish; I knew. 

 

We kissed until the room grew colder, the flush of body heat fading, the eventual complaint of muscles and joints making us move.  Phil cleaned up -- I’d missed his sleight-of-hand with the gel and skin that he must have brought with him -- and we wrapped ourselves in our towels for the lazy walk to the showers.  We couldn’t keep our hands from touching, our lips from more kisses; we washed and dressed each other, laughed at fumbling fingers and buttons.  

 

“For some reason, I’m hungry,” I said. “Wouldn’t mind ...

 

“... some of those cookies,” Phil agreed. 

 

I pressed him in the corner of the elevator and nibbled on his neck as we descended, parting only when the car came to a stop and the door started to open. 

 

“Ah, there you are, Phil.  I was just about to send someone to find you.”  

 

Thaddeus Ross stood in the middle of the room, Blonsky at his right hand. Kneeling in front of him, hands cuffed behind his back, Bruce was ringed by four soldiers; eight others trained their weapons on Tony, Steve, Bucky, Sam, and Natasha. 

 

“Ross.”  Phil stopped cold. “Somehow I doubt you have the blessing of your superior officer for this witch hunt.” 

 

“Now when has that ever stopped us?”  Blonsky grinned and I knew at that moment he wasn’t completely sane. 

 

“Actually, I have the permission of the CEO of Stark Industries: Obediah was more than accommodating with overrides and shutting down Tony’s little pet program.  He’s as anxious to see what Banner’s got as we are,” Ross said. “ASF promised SI an exclusive contract to produce the serum.” 

 

“Motherfucking asshole.”  Tony started to take a step forward; a gun barrel aimed at his face. “This is a violation of the industrial privacy act …” 

 

“Oh, shut up, Stark.  You’ll all be fine if Bruce here comes along quietly. I’ll even let you keep the cure and make a ton of money off of it.  Save those mudball farmers if it makes you feel better; we just want Banner.” 

 

“What?”  Steve was as confused as the rest of us. “You don’t want the cure?” 

 

It had never been about the cure. In a flash, I could see the truth. Expanded strength, enhanced speed, growth factor … the plague an outgrowth of experiments designed to create a better human. I saw Bucky start as he figured it out; Willinno had also run the program at Borneo, testing illegal research on Bluecoat prisoners … and Bruce carried the information Ross wanted in his DNA.  

 

“I’ll go,” Bruce said. “You leave them alone … alive and unhurt with no repercussions … and I’ll give you the formula.” 

 

“Of course,” the General said. “I promise.”

 

“Actually, I need more than your word.” Bruce looked over at me. “Clint, will you intercede on my behalf?” 

 

“What the …” The General sputtered. “Who the hell are you?” 

 

“I am Clint Barton of the Haukkaselma, follower of Cernunnos, Haci-Dan and Zaiteki, bearer of the mark of Flidais.” I stepped forward and put myself between Bruce and the nearest gun. 

 

Ross blinked and took a step back.  “You’re Danuean?” 

 

“I am,” I answered. “And I bring the full might of the Danuean forces to the table where I stand as mediator for Dr. Bruce Banner in this matter. I hereby declare this sacred negotiation open and begun.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one kicked my ass too. 
> 
> all of Clint's "memories" are from past chapters except the last two. 
> 
> What, you thought I'd explained it all? 
> 
> So Bruce has injected himself with a super soldier, gamma-irradiated serum and Ross wants it ... we know how well that usually works out. 
> 
> Oh, and Bucky was at a facility where the same company and the Alliance were doing tests on prisoners. 
> 
> And there's the little matter of Phil's question about the worst crime a Daneaun could commit ... *winks*


	24. Inter-Chapter #12:  Danuean Traits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Danuean Traits

_** Danuean Traits ** _

 

**_ Ability Scores _ **

+2 on Dexterity

+3 on Charm

**_ Alignment _ **

Almost all Danueans are lawful neutral; they abide by their societal and clan rules without question. However, because of their isolationist tendencies, adventuring Danueans are more likely to be chaotic neutral, a free spirit who takes others’ rules and laws on a case-by-case basis. 

 

**_ Fighting Ability _ **

Danueans are trained in martial arts from a young age and are formidable foes; characters who use a traditional form begin at level two. However, because of their pacifist beliefs, they never strike the first blow; any attempt to do so rolls at a -2. 

 

**_ Charm and Seduction _ **

Danueans have a +3 on negotiations; when attempting seductions, they have a +4 and no race or alignment limitations. 

 

**_ Religion and Magic _ **

Like priests and clerics, Danueans must choose a focus for worship and advance in ranks of training per the spiritual growth chart.  They are limited to only intuitive and transcendent spells up to level four. 

 

**_ Traits _ **

Danueans tend to be secretive and not mingle with others.  They spend much of their time in meditation and communion with the universe. Because of social biases, they do not enter relationships with those outside their race. A Danuean never goes back on their word. 

 

 

 

 **Author’s Note:**  Discovered in a trunk on an abandoned colony in 3207, this is an excerpt from a badly worn and half burned rulebook for Dungeons, Space, and Monsters. Stephen M. Strange wrote a comprehensive history of such games in his book, Race, Class, and Hit Points: Transforming the Self in Role Playing Games.  According to Strange, the evolution of these games parallels the growth of self-identification versus societal norms:  “In these worlds, a player could be who they wanted, paint themselves in the image of their mind’s eye, live a life free from physical and cultural barriers.”  The option to play as a Danuean appeared in the games produced by Wizards of the Galaxy sometime after the Battle of the Line and stayed until the 27th edition update. Of course, it goes without saying, that this is an exaggerated portrayal of the people of Danu; note the emphasis on seduction and inclusion of magic.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You KNOW if there were Danueans around, they'd add them to D&D! :))))


	25. Chapter #12: The Needs of the One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ross wants Bruce, Clint figures out Bucky's secret, Obediah is just as much an S.O.B. as you expect, and Clint finally tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rubs eyes and blearily stares at screen* 
> 
> Yeah, so the first week of the semester hit hard and I had to finish a piece for a remix I agreed to do a while back and this chapter kicked my ass. Anywho, here it is. I keep promising fighting and end up with lots of talking. 
> 
> *shrugs shoulders as my muse eats a cupcake and smiles*

“Yeah, no, I don’t think so.”  Blonsky’s gun was pointed at my temple before I finished the last word.  “Banner’s a lying sack of shit and you’re some low rent fuck boy Stark’s paying by the hour.  No way you’re Daneaun; they never leave the planet much less go slumming it with the likes of these bluecoat scum.” 

 

“It’s true, asshole,” Tony spoke up. “You’re screwed five ways from Sunday.” 

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Blonsky spat back. “A negotiation can’t start until it’s registered on planet and who’s going to make that call? All I have to do is pull the trigger and no one will ever be the wiser.” 

 

“You willing to take that risk?”  I asked, damn proud that I kept my voice from shaking. Actually, I was pissed, really, really angry.  I’d just had the most amazingly hot sex of my life with a guy I wanted to get to know a hell of a lot better, and these jokers had interrupted my plans to drag a naked Phil into the hot tub with me later. “See, here’s the thing; you’re going to have to kill everyone in this room to ensure the Danuean Adjuicants know what you did. Not just us, but your men too.  ‘Cause if they ever find out you killed someone asking for help and the mediator who agreed to the request? Well, all I can say is this. Novigrad. Ulaanbaatar. Genosha.” I saw one of the Alliance guys flinch; seems he, at least, knew to be afraid of our military’s response. 

 

“If that’s what we have to do …”

 

“For God’s sake, put your gun down, Emil.”  Ross heaved a sigh. “Saw plenty of those tattoos while we were on planet; he’s telling the truth. Look, it’s simple. We get Banner; everyone else goes on with their lives. All we want is what is rightfully ours; the ASF paid for the initial research and the serum he’s carrying is the outcome of that. Can’t we just make a deal without all of the formality?” 

 

“No can do.”  I shook my head when Bruce glanced up at me.  Self-sacrificing idiot would probably agree to save our lives.  No way was Ross going to let us have the information about Willinno Tech and the Alliance’s culpability in the creation of the plague. “You know how it works, General. Once a request is made and accepted, it’s too late.  Of course, when we get to Danu, you’re welcome to make an offer to end things early once the full panel is convened.” 

 

“Right. We need to pack the ship, get things ready.” Tony stood up, pushing the gun muzzle nearest him away. “Bathing suits are optional planetside, people, so don’t bother. Great Hall tends to run to the cold side, though, so sweaters are a must.” 

 

Blonsky blocked Tony. “Nobody’s going anywhere. The high muckety-mucks on Screw ‘Em All Planet have to agree; until we hear from them, you can sit your ass back down.” 

 

Fuck.  I had been hoping to spin out as much time as possible before someone mentioned contacting Danu, give Pepper more time to get to her destination and start filing the paperwork. Honestly didn’t know whether I could technically accept a request or not anymore, but I knew for sure nobody would take my call. That was spelled out in the Ex Filo agreement; no contact whatsoever with anyone. Period. 

 

“Well then, let’s get ‘em on the screen, shall we?”  Tony waved a hand and a vid window opened. “JARVIS put a call into the Grand Master Adjudicator What’s His Name, that guy we dealt with on the Jericho project. Tell him it’s Tony Stark and it’s an emergency. That ought to light a fire under him.” 

 

“There’s no need to get hasty, Stark,”  Ross put a hand on Blonsky’s shoulder and pulled him back a step. “I’m sure we can come to a reasonable solution that works for all of us without the ruckus.” 

 

Sam scoffed, loudly. “Yeah, like we’d buy anything you’re selling.” 

 

Ross’s face darkened. “I don’t know who you are, but you’ve hitched your wagon to a group of failed rebels and traitors. Best keep your opinions to yourself or ..” 

 

“Or what? You’ll toss me into one of your black site prisons and experiment on me?” Sam’s glare grew dark and dangerous.  “I’ve seen the inside of the Fridge and know just how well you Alliance types keep your promises. No matter what lies you tell us, you’re not going to let any of us walk free.  Bruce, don’t listen to him; soon as he has you on his ship, he’ll …” 

 

Blonsky slammed his fist into Sam’s jaw; Sam reeled back, bumping into Steve who caught and steadied him. So fast no one saw him move, Bucky launched up and swung, the force of his metal hand driving into Blonsky’s stomach and knocking him flat on the floor.  Soldiers pointed their guns towards Bucky, aiming for the man pummeling Blonsky with powerful blows. That was the opening we’d been waiting for. Natasha flipped over the back of the couch and kicked the hell out of the nearest two. Sam grabbed the closest weapon, yanked it away then smashed the butt into the guy’s head. Steve launched a flurry of punches, taking out three, and Tony threw his glass at another’s face, striking with the edge of his hands in precise hits to pressure points as the guy tried to clean the whiskey out of his eyes.  

 

“Right,” Phil murmured before engaging his guy.  With a roundhouse kick, I got the one on the left, coming up with the gun just as Phil disarmed his.  

 

“Nice try.”  Ross’s voice was calm as he pointed a very wicked looking small device at Bruce’s head. “But unless you want your friend to go green and kill us all, you’ll put down the weapons.” 

 

“Betty got it to work,” Bruce said. “You forced her to finish it.” 

 

“I persuaded her how important it would be to have a way to interrupt the combination process,” Ross answered.  “Only works on our serum right now -- the disease mutates other areas of the DNA -- but she’s confident it will eventually be useful in that area as well. Of course, wasn’t too hard for our scientists to tweak a few things for other applications.” 

 

“You bastard.” Tony’s eyes flashed with anger. “You can accelerate the effects? What the fuck for? Didn’t you learn anything from Tehragheh?”

 

“Sometimes we learn the most from mistakes,” Ross said. “There’s always been a place for soldiers who are more brawn than brains.” 

 

“Ones who follow orders without asking questions, are willing to kill innocents who get in the way like at Khođaumoi?” Bucky was sitting on Blonsky’s chest, his arm whirring as he clenched his fist. “You’re making your own pet monsters.” 

 

“The gamma rays did that; we’re just harnessing them for our own use.” 

 

“Like berserkers of old,” Phil said. “You never learn, do you?”

 

“Someone has to make the hard choices to protect our way of life.”  Ross shifted his finger onto the flat surface. “Now put down the guns or the mild-mannered Dr. Banner will cease to exist.”

 

“Clint.”  Bruce looked at me. “If it comes to it, take me out and don’t let him have my body. Burn it, blow the whole place to hell.” 

 

“Bruce, I …” I wasn’t sure I could do that. “There’s got to be a way …” 

 

“I understand,” Bucky interrupted to say. “He won’t get the serum. I promise.” 

 

Bucky’s rescue from Barneo, Steve telling him he was worth it, the two of them running to the outer reaches of the known galaxy to hide … good God, I was super-slow on the uptake.  If the Alliance had been shipping the altered DNA from Sagittarius A, Barneo would provide plenty of prisoners to experiment on. 

 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Blonsky said through bloody teeth. “I’ll fucking kill ya’ both; don’t matter none.”

 

“Emil, shut up,” Ross commanded. “He’s not wrong; we can just as easily gain the sequencing alive or dead.  But Betty made a convincing case that she needs you to continue her work, so I promised her I’d do my best.” 

 

“Wow, that’s mighty white of you. Making your daughter beg you not to kill her boyfriend. You’re gunning for father of the year, aren’t you?”  Tony wrinkled his nose. “Considering you have no problem killing innocents, why would I expect you to care about your own kid?” 

 

“You know, I actually argued with Obediah about whether we should kill you or not.” Ross glared at Tony. “I thought you could be useful in the lab, developing weapons, but he was right. You’re a rash that needs to be wiped out.” 

 

“Son-of-a …” Tony’s face went stone-cold still. “You’re a fucking liar: Obie wouldn’t …”

 

“You think all those kidnapping attempts were just malcontents aiming for a rich ransom payout?” Ross smiled like the shark he was, all teeth and no hint of emotion. “Stane jumped at the chance when I told him you were harboring an Alliance fugitive; you get caught in the crossfire, the media will feast on your bones before the body’s even cold.” 

 

“God, you really are a sociopath.” Revulsion filled Steve’s voice. 

 

“Bleeding hearts and soft emotions won’t save the galaxy; someone has to make the hard decisions,” Ross replied. 

 

“And if you get off on the power trip, that’s just another check in the win column?” Sam asked. 

 

“Watch your mouth, boy, or I’ll …”  Ross paused as a chime sounded from the communicator chip behind his ear. He touched it with his free hand. “This is Ross.” 

 

“Sir, we’ve got three bogeys heading our way; long-range scans show their wakes coming from outside the system. Extrapolation of flight paths has them dropping into normal space in fifteen to seventeen minutes, right on our doorstep.” 

 

“What the fuck did you do, Stark? You didn’t have time to contact anyone,” Ross asked with a glare. 

 

“Wasn’t me,” Tony protested. 

 

“Probably Willinno Tech security, making sure you follow through on your agreement,” Phil suggested. “Honor among thieves and all.” 

 

“Obie does believe in cleaning up after himself; why not kill two birds with one stone and take us all out?” Tony said. 

 

_“Those definitely weren’t Alliance guys; they were too well outfitted. Doubt they were local; I’ve been here a week and there’s not really a market for a high-powered team like that,” Sam said. “Even Phil would have a hard time rustling up a crew, and he’s the best handler out here.”_

 

I glanced at Phil and caught his exchange of gazes with Natasha, understanding flashing between them.  She looked at me and I saw the apology in her green eyes. 

 

_“You’ve been keeping things from me, Natasha, not that that’s a surprise.”_

 

My stomach rolled, the messy ball of memories and half-recognized truths unfurling.  The third-party, the ones who always knew where we were. A recent small cut, the right size for an internal transponder. Deflection and misdirection. Coincidences that really were coincidences. 

 

“We have to go,” Natasha said. “Now.” 

 

“You’ll go when I …” Ross stopped talking when Steve’s fist plowed into his face.  The device dropped to the ground and Sam scooped it up. Two more hits and Ross was out cold, and Steve released Bruce’s cuffs. 

 

“Get to the ship,” Steve ordered. “Sam, fire it up and everyone …” 

 

Blonsky jerked, tried to throw Bucky off; they scuffled for a few seconds before Bucky wrapped his metal hand around Blonsky’s throat and began to squeeze.  The man’s face went red and he scrabbled for breath. 

 

“Buck, don’t.”  Steve put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “He’s not worth it.” 

 

“He’s one of them, Steve,” Bucky argued. “Tortured us. Thought of us as nothing but bodies to be cut and remade.” 

 

“Yeah, I know.” Steve’s voice was soft and low. “I don’t give a shit what happens to him, but you … killing him won’t help you sleep better at night.” 

 

For a heartbeat, I didn’t think Buck was going to stop, but then he fell back, leaving Blonsky gasping and retching. “I’m better than him,” Bucky muttered. 

 

“Let’s go.” Natasha led the way; Steve and Sam waited for Bucky, Sam slipping his hand in Bucky’s as they left. 

 

“If I were you,” Tony said to the remaining Alliance soldiers. “I’d drag this assholes to your ship and get the hell out of Dodge. Those ships are bad news for all of us.” 

 

“Give me a minute and I’ll get the data from the office,” Phil said, turning towards the hallway. 

 

“We don’t have time.” I grabbed his arm. “Once they’re out of hyperspace, they’ll have us in their crosshairs.” 

 

“It’s already on the Dodger,” Tony said. “You really think I’d leave anything on a system Obie could access? You wound me, Coulson. Clint, drag your boyfriend to the hanger bay; there’s nothing here that’s worth dying over.” 

 

I was the last one out, surprised no one tried to stop us despite the guns we still had in our possession; I’d have used the distraction but they seemed content to leave us be. Might be the fact Blonsky had pretty much admitted to being willing to kill them. Wouldn’t endear me to my commanding officers. 

 

The ramp was closing even as I jumped on, engines already warming up, all of us rushing to prepare for take-off. Sam fired the thrusters and lifted us up before I was halfway up the stairs. 

 

“We’ve got seven minutes before the incoming vessels are within range,” Bruce said, buckling into one of the bridge jump seats. “Whoever they are.” 

 

“That’s the least of our troubles; Ross came in a shuttle,” Steve said, looking out the port window. “There’s a bigger Alliance ship out there; anybody got any ideas on how to avoid getting blasted out of the sky soon as we cross the forcefield?” 

 

“Ask and ye shall receive.” Tony tapped his comm. “JARVIS, how much of that surprise gift did you get finished?”

 

“Shield transition is 70% complete; if we route power to the main deflectors, we can achieve 100% optimal telescoping.” 

 

“You installed your A.I. on my ship?” Steve glared at Tony. “You never mentioned you were going to …” 

 

“Later, Cap. After I save that magnificent ass, you can ride mine all you want about what constitutes consent.”  Tony grinned.  

 

“Guys, that’s an attack cruiser on our forward bow,” Sam said. “Rail guns and torpedos, dudes.”

 

“Can’t hit what they can’t see,” Tony said. “JARVIS, deploy the Bird-of-Prey protocol.” 

 

Sam eased us out of the docking area, right into the main sights of the military vessel. I held my breath, waiting for the flash of a giant muzzle, but they just hung there, close enough for us to see the lights in the window of the observation lounge. 

 

“A cloaking device?” Bruce asked. “You’ve got a working invisibility shield?” 

 

“It’s more of a reflective image enhancer, but, yeah.” Tony slapped Steve on the back. “Cool, huh?” 

 

“Tony, you’re …” Steve was at a loss for words. 

 

“I am, indeed,” Tony agreed. “Now let’s just hope the fast mod I did on the thrust cylinders holds long enough to get us out of here.” 

 

* * *

 

“What the hell happened?”  Steve demanded. “Alliance and Willinno Tech and now this Stane fellow too? Super serums? I thought after the treaty … they were supposed to stop.” 

 

We spilled out of the galley, more of us than there were seats around the table. As soon as Sam made the jump, the talking had begun.  Everyone, it seemed, had an opinion on what to do next.

 

“Oh, I’m sure they did stop … at the outposts they told everyone about.”  Tony shrugged. “Give up a few to hide the rest. That’s how Obie keeps his secret facilities off the books too. Wonder if he taught that to Ross or they learned together?”

 

“Tony.” Steve took a step closer. “I’m sorry, about Stane. It must be hard …” 

 

“Yeah, whatever.” Tony shrugged but he couldn’t sell his indifference. “Obie thinks he used his little back door into JARVIS, but the joke’s on him. JARVIS is inside all of SI and anyone Obie’s done business with including …” Tony waved his hands and a vid projection popped up, “... the Alliance internal database.” 

 

“You moved JARVIS to the Dodger.” Phil smiled. “Left the door open, knowing you’d trace back whoever used it.” 

 

“Obie doesn’t get his hands dirty, let’s someone else do it.” Tony scrolled through files. “Oh, look. Want to read the science logs from Borneo?”  He spun one and sent it flying towards Barnes. “Or maybe the real transcripts from Khođaumoi?” That one went to Phil. “Here’s the order to use chemical weapons at Sedon.”  Tony passed it over his shoulder to Steve. “Let’s see … Exo-7, Falcon squad, right?  How about memos that lead up to the attack on Bakhmala?”

 

“What the …” Sam enlarged the image. “They were in contact with Khandil? They knew and sent us in any way?”

 

“Tony, this isn’t helping.”  Natasha interrupted before Tony could keep going. “We need to keep our heads in the moment.” 

 

“She’s right.”  Steve closed his image. “We’re in the frying pan now; Ross and Blonsky will be coming after us and we still don’t know who those other guys are.  Let’s focus on that.” 

 

“Right, yeah, good idea, Cap. One thing at a time.”  Tony stumbled over the first few words then gained traction. “JARVIS, run a numeric and linguistic search through Ross and Blonsky’s last two … three months of correspondence, logs, and any other paperwork they have trailing behind ‘em. Add Obie in there too and look for Willinno Tech or Dr. Betty or Jansky or any of the other keywords that might tell us what they’ve been up to. Oh, and get me that line to the Grand Adjudicator; a fast attack force’s a hell of a backup. Barton can talk to him, set the ball in motion.” 

 

“Tony, I …” 

 

Oh, God, I was going to have to come clean right now in front of Phil and everybody. Better to admit it before the G.A. answered; that would be the most awkward one-sided conversation ever.  

 

“It’s a good move,” Steve said. “If half of what I’ve heard is true, just putting in the request gives Bruce a modicum of protection.” 

 

“He needs witnesses, right?” Sam added. “I might be just a retired Guard, but I’ll do it.  Bucky? Phil? Natasha? How many do we need?” 

 

“Three registered, then everyone else as potential support.” I glanced at Bruce and, damn it, he looked so freakin’ hopeful. “But I can’t …” 

 

“The whole outbred thing.” Tony was busy sorting data, combing through a long list, juggling three things at once. “The primary contact isn’t the final arbitrator, right? Just need you to light the fuse on this puppy and then …” 

 

“I can’t.” I swiped the open call screen that Tony was fiddling with and shut it down. “You’re not listening to me. I can not do this; they won’t talk to me.” 

 

Silence greeted my pronouncement and I was suddenly the center of everyone’s attention.

 

 “But the protocols,” Bruce asked. “If you agree to stand for me, you should be able to …” 

 

“No.” I shook my head and wrapped my arms around my chest, a shiver overtaking me. I’d never actually said it out loud, given it the weight of words. “No contact at all. I can never set foot planetside, not even the visitors’ platforms or transit hub.  The others … I don’t exist to them. To talk to me would be … yeah, no. I won’t ask anyone to make the choice between the law and me.” 

 

“Holy hell,” Sam breathed in the quiet. “That’s fucked up, Clint.”

 

My shoulder hitched as I tried to shrug; I couldn’t act like I didn’t care ‘cause I really, really did. The shiver turned to a tremor in my voice and, damn it, I was not going to cry. No way in hell. 

 

“It is what it is. I made my choice, I’ve got to live with it.”  Warm fingers wound through mine, Phil’s hand holding me tight. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I can’t do this for you, but I can give you the name of a couple of people who will. Just don’t mention my name.” 

 

“Clint.”  Bruce stood. “That’s fine. I’m not … Jesus, I knew the government there was anal about their isolation, but this? This is …” 

 

“Idiotic? Stupid? Some racist bullshit?” Bucky’s eyes flashed. “There’s no way you did anything to deserve that kind of treatment. Hell, you’ve done nothing but stretch yourself thin helping everyone else since you barreled onboard.” 

 

“It’s not …” I began. 

 

“I bet it’s those stupid rules about negotiations, right? No one in or out, sequestering the participants, locking the doors to avoid interruptions…” Tony’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. “Oh, shit, the Ulaanbaatar debacle.  I thought that was just a rumor; Mandarian’s a front for some dark, twisted shit, but even they’re afraid of you guys.” 

 

I opened my mouth; a knot tightened my vocal cords. 

 

“It’s okay.” Phil, comforting and so near. “You don’t have to explain; we don’t need to know.” 

 

“I owe …” 

 

“... nobody anything at all.”  Natasha, on the other side. “We all have our secrets, Clint, and they’re ours to keep.” 

 

Secrets. The irony of her choice of words shook loose my resolve, gave me back my voice. 

 

“Not always. Not when they could hurt others.”  I took a breath. “I was exiled for breaking the seal of the adjudication chamber; I had information that couldn’t wait until the end of the session. I knew the rule and I broke it. And I would do it again in the same situation.” 

 

“They kicked you out for opening a door?” Bucky asked. “What the hell?” 

 

“It’s about ensuring the parties aren’t unduly influenced or fed false information by external parties,” Bruce explained. “For the most sensitive talks, everyone is sequestered, as Tony said; each negotiation is also assigned a threat level in terms of security and protection.”

 

“Mandarin Industries is basically a terrorist group wrapped up in corporation sheepskin.  They were building chemical weapons on Ulaanbaatar and kept the people on the colony under their thumb through violence and intimidation,” Phil said. “Just getting the province leaders to the table would need the highest safety measures; they risked their lives to save their people by even asking for help.” 

 

“Vid news was full of the story before it disappeared from the headlines,” Sam said. “Then I heard about the attack on the Mandarin facility there; it was wiped off the face of the planet as if it had never been there and Mandarin went into bankruptcy. I assumed they’d violated the terms of the settlement.” 

 

Even now it was hard to talk about it, the old injunction on secrecy still ingrained deep in my psyche. But what difference did it make now? Wouldn’t the galaxy be better off knowing what happened? 

 

“One of the adjudicators on the case was a friend. Her first leadership position,” I told them. “The delegations were sequestered to their quarters and the hall; Jess got me a job as security for the Ulaanbaatar prefects. I wasn’t on the inside during the actual talks, but I ferried them back and forth, stood watch, that sort of thing. Thought it would be an easy gig but then I discovered one of the Mandarin lower-level flunkies was my brother.” 

 

“Shit,” Sam and Bucky said at the same time. 

 

“Hadn’t seen him in years, not since he’d left to find Harold; never thought he’d come back deep into violent ideology and kill-the-all-the-bastards mentality.” When Phil wrapped his arms around me, I leaned into his warmth. “He asked to see me and we talked and I thought, sure, why not? He wanted us to be brothers again, he said, get to know each other as adults; he’d found Dad and we could be family. Lying sack of shit, that’s what he was; the whole time he was feeding them information, asking me about my life, where I lived, what negotiations I’d worked on, what I was doing now.  He’d grown up on Danu too and wanted to reconnect with some old friends … Ain’t ashamed to say I bought it, for a while anyway, got him permission to have a couple of visitors ..” 

 

A glass of whiskey was pressed into my hand; I took a long swallow, the burn heating my throat as hit slid into the cold morass of guilt in my chest. 

 

“Eventually, it was too good to be true, you know?  That’s what got me to open my eyes. He told me exactly what I wanted to hear and that’s not how the universe works. Started noticing how direct and pointed some of the details were that he wanted to know, then it wasn’t too hard to extrapolate what he was doing, the bits and pieces he was gathering. And let me tell you, discovering that your brother was a potential suicide bomber really shakes a man’s view of karma and destiny.” 

 

“He was going to take it in the chamber, walk it right in on his person?” Tony shook his head. “I know the system in the Great Hall, hell, I helped build part of it.  There are detectors and redundant programs in place to ensure he couldn’t do it.”

 

“Not if he was the bomb, if it was his own body.”  I closed my eyes, the terror of those last moments as real now as they were that day. “Never understood exactly how they did it, but now that I know about Barneo and Jansky and super serums, I bet the answer’s somewhere in there. All Barney needed was a vial of releeze elixir and a glass of red wine. That’s what he needed his connections for, to get the drug. Didn’t raise any red flags because it’s legal and lots of people use it for headaches. We don’t sell it to offworlders, but Barney was a Danuean after all.” 

 

“So, wait. You told them about a plot to blow up the negotiations and they exiled you?” Steve asked. “I don’t understand.” 

 

“By the time I realized it, they were already in session and Barney was in the room,” I explained. 

 

“Yes, but there was a bomb,” Sam said. “You warned them, they go in and stop it …” 

 

“Highest level security, sequestered … they wouldn’t open the doors to anyone.”  Bruce winced.

 

“I had no hard proof, just some conversations, and my gut intuition; that wasn’t enough.”

 

“But you stopped it,” Tony said. “Never heard of an assassination at a negotiation, just the rumor they tried.” 

 

“You broke in, of course you did, you fucking lunatic.”  Bucky grinned. “Knew there was a reason I liked you from the very beginning. You beat down the door? Kick the guard’s ass? Shoot that bow of yours into the lock and break it?” 

 

“I climbed through the ventilation system.”  I found myself returning his smile. Contorting my body into the metal conduit was one of the dumbest things I’d ever managed to do. “Only an aerosol curtain over the opening for gasses; I dropped right in the middle of the table, shot Barney’s glass out of his hand and pinned his arms to the wall before everything went to hell. Our guards started shooting at me, the Mandarin people made the stupid decision to fight hand-to-hand. The commotion sent everyone undercover, so when the other suicider set herself off, the damage was minimal.”

 

“You saved them.” Phil sounded so proud. “They gave you the Flidais for outstanding bravery.”

 

“ And exiled me in the same breath. Already had both tats when I woke up in medical; didn’t even get to go home to pack.”  

 

“Let me get this straight; you stopped terrorists from killing people and they punished you for it?” Tony was incredulous. “I told Pepper there was something hinky about all that peace and love shit everyone spouted; sanctity of the negotiation my ass. They’d rather let people die than open the damn door.” 

 

Too many tense days and guns being aimed my way had left me with only one nerve left and Tony had just stomped on it. “Peace and love shit. Nice to know what you think of me.” 

 

“Come on, you of all people should understand the hypocrisy of it. All the talk about transcendence but caring jackshit about one of their own.” Tony scoffed. “How much you want to bet I can find proof of Danuean corruption in all these Alliance files? Always wondered how the Alliance got off so easy at the end of the rebellion.” 

 

“Yeah, because we can’t be serious about the religious stuff, can we?” My anger spiked; I was tired and frayed and couldn’t go home. “I’m sorry your mentor turned out to be a bastard who tried to kill you, Tony, but that doesn’t give you the right to trash my life.” 

 

Startled, Tony dropped his hands. “Hey, no, I didn’t mean …” 

 

“No one ever means anything; it’s just a little fun. Aren’t you from the planet of the sluts, how do you talk with your mouth full, you spend a lot of time on your knees … I’ve heard it all. Look, it’s not perfect … no place is … but it’s a damn sight better than the sexually repressed, self-centered rest of the galaxy.”  I turned to Bruce. “Get through to Carol Danvers in the Elite Guard first then ask for Jessica Drew in the Adjudicator's office. They’ll help you.” 

 

I turned and fled, leaving a babble of voices behind me. Never said I didn’t have a temper; it just takes a long time to rile me up to the point of explosion. Hard lessons had taught me to keep an even keel; whether a foster parent’s fist or a sensei’s pointed sigh, I knew better than to vent my frustration. And yet, here I was, storming down the stairs like a full-tilt diva and sliding shut the door to my quarters with a clang that vibrated all the way down to my toes. 

 

My quarters. I stopped in the middle of the space, my pack on the bed, and let out a long  breath. The mattress was thin but there was a soft purple throw I’d never seen before folded neatly on top of a new wool blanket and a fluffy pillow.  Now that I was looking, I saw full bottles of alcohol tucked behind a railed shelf, a couple of boxes in the corner and an honest-to-God real-life plant in a colorful pot on the tiny table.  

 

“Barton?” Tony banged on the door. “Look, I’m an idiot, ask anybody. Run my mouth without engaging my brain. Wasn’t talking about you, you know that right? Just those stick-up-their-ass bureaucrats that treat off-worlders like something they scraped off their shoe. They’re the ones who …” 

 

“Apologizing Tony. You’re supposed to be apologizing.” Steve’s voice broke in.

 

“I’m no good at this, the whole relating thing,” Tony said. “But I am. Sorry, that is.” He paused. “It would be easier to say if I wasn’t shouting through a metal door. Maybe you want to …” 

 

Sliding it open, I found not just Tony, but Steve, Sam, and Bruce crowded in the hallway. 

 

“A blanket?” I asked. “A pillow and a plant?” 

 

Tony blinked, recalibrated, then broke into a grin. “It was Pepper’s idea; she got a look at how empty the rooms were and had the bots move the stuff over. I added the liquor and a few, um, useful items, and a few other things we might need. Dum-e and You stashed stuff in the smuggler’s holds.” Tony glanced over his shoulder at Steve. “Don’t tell the Captain.” 

 

“I know every inch of this ship, Tony; I’ve already liberated the chocolate bars.”  Steve grinned. “And your bots are welcome on board; we could definitely use them help keeping things running.” 

 

“Good.” Tony clapped me on the shoulders. “We’re square, right? All settled.” 

 

“Sure.” I was man enough to admit that Tony was just the catalyst, not the problem. “We’re good.” 

 

“Alright then, back to work. Got to get the shielding program finished then upgrade the life system to a more sustainable, low cost, high yield return, add a hepafilter to stop the spread of smells … knock that fried fish smell right out of the ventilation …”  

 

He headed towards the engine room; Steve nodded to me then left, Sam following suit. 

 

“He means well,” Bruce said. “Has a terrible way of phrasing things but he’s not entirely wrong. There’s a lot to admire about Danu …  and I learned so much while there … but they’re unconditional adherence to tradition can be a problem. You see that, I know you do.” 

 

“I do.”  Boy, did I. “But I understand why those rules exist, what they’re meant to protect.” 

 

 “Well, what we see is Clint Barton, a friend who got a raw deal,” Bruce said, “but is making the best of the lousy hand he’s been dealt. That’s who I care about.” 

 

Damn it, I was blushing; I’m not good at this ‘having friends’ shit. “Yeah, well, don’t let me stop you from sending that message; we need the back up.” 

 

“I’m going to do it right now,” Bruce promised. “You sure you’re okay?” 

 

Phil came around the corner, Mr. Perfect Timing like always. 

 

“Phil can distract me.” I smiled. “Maybe go through these boxes to see what little gifts Tony tucked inside.” 

 

“Un huh.” Bruce grinned . “Distraction.”

 

As soon as Bruce walked away, I dragged Phil into my cabin, pressed his back against the wall, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow or yesterday or even today.  When my hands reached for his belt, he caught them, slipped them around his waist, then held me in his arms. 

 

“Later,” he murmured. “Just breathe with me right now.” 

 

I leaned my forehead against his, felt the rise and fall of his chest, senses opening so easily that I all but tripped headlong into the union, my inner nooks and crannies I’d filled with Phil waking. His calm acceptance, such surety that I was a good person, was worth all this trouble, slowly bled away my fears, the icy knot unraveling. The knowledge that the two of us were one together, facing the universe, didn’t change what had happened but made the forking paths that lay before us less terrifying, more manageable. 

 

We stood there. syncing our heartbeats and merging souls, long enough for everyone to settle into the rhythm of transit, begin the dance of living and working in close quarters. A distance conversation, the clang of tools, footsteps approaching and receding, all mixing together over the oscillating hum of the engine and the rattle of conduits and vents. Our journey was shadowed by pursuit, weighed down with baggage of the past, complicated by burgeoning emotions, and obscured by too many possible endings but we were alive and together and that had to count for something because I needed it to. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhh, so many threads coming together. Bucky at Borneo and Bruce's "cure" and shipments all over the galaxy! 
> 
> A number of Iron Man I references in here ... Jericho, Obie's kidnapping attempts. 
> 
> The files Tony shares with everyone reference other events in this story (Borneo and Sedon); the ones for Sam are from CA:WS, the Sheik Khandil mission in Bakhmala where Riley dies. 
> 
> hehehehehehehe, Bird of Prey cloaking device? Make it so. 
> 
> Of course, Barney was going to show up somewhere in the story ...
> 
> Tony really does mean well and you can bet the Danuean officials looked down their noses at him, so his experiences would be very different than Bruce or Clint's. Plus he just had his worst fears confirmed about Stane and who knows what's going to happen to his house. And, yeah, he would so definitely save Dum-E and You. :)
> 
> Don't worry, we'll come back to Natasha and her secret in the next chapter.


	26. Inter Chapter 13: Excerpt from The Labor of Lerna (#9 in the Alliance Falls series) by Ed Brubaker, pp. 204-6.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from The Labor of Lerna (#9 in the Alliance Falls series) by Ed Brubaker, pp. 204-6.

Excerpt from **_The Labor of Lerna_** (#9 in the _Alliance Falls_ series) by Ed Brubaker, pp. 204-6.

 

“Finally, we meet. It was time, was it not? After such a satisfying game of cat and mouse.”  

 

Wilson Fisk floated up in his anti-gravity chair, raising himself above her head so he could stare menacingly; she snorted, making her disdain plain for such theatrics. In his pristine white suit, rolls of fat spilling over his legs, he was no threat to someone trained in krav maga and gravityless jujitsu. 

 

“Speak for yourself,” she replied, “You’re really not my type.” 

 

“Alas, yes, I am aware of your orientation, Agent Walters.” He nodded towards the gorgeous woman standing beside him. Long legs, alabaster skin, breasts that strained against her shirt, pulling at the buttons, eyes green as the starlight on Morndan; Jennifer had noticed her from the second she'd walked in. “Shall we have a drink? Whiskey or do you prefer gin?” 

 

“Alberian scotch, neat.” She never turned down hundred-year-old whiskey. 

 

“Mira, if you’d please?” He watched my eyes follow her as she crossed to the bar, bent to take glasses from a bottom shelf, her perfect firm ass on display. “Ms. Quim is Daneaun trained, quite the coop when I hired her away from Owlsley. She can make you come in seconds or draw it out for hours, can’t you, sweetheart?” 

 

“I am versed in seventeen different paths of desire.” Mira smiled at me as she handed me the drink, her fingers brushing against mine. “It would be my pleasure to show you.” 

 

“I’m afraid we’ll have to go for delayed gratification; business first, my beauty.” She took a sip.

 

Mira smiled, trailing her fingers along my arm as she left the room.  

 

“So down to it, eh, Jennifer?” Fisk drank from his glass too. “May I call you Jennifer? I feel like I know you so well. How’s your cousin? Is the disease progressing or did the experimental treatment halt the spread?” 

 

He wanted to throw her, put her off her game, but it was going to take a lot more than that tepid attempt to stop her from getting the data she came for. Lives were at stake, the fate of the galaxy in her hands, and she was damn well going to throw a wrench into Fisk and his cronies’ plan. 

 

“Enough with the small talk. Cough it up, Fisk. The access code. Give it to me now and I’ll kill you quick despite what you deserve.” Energy swirled inside her, coiling at the base and circling up her spine. Warmth spread up her shoulder and into her chest. 

 

Fisk laughed, oily and too slick for him to be anything but a villain. “You think they trust me that much? The Leader thinks I’m a security risk, that I don’t play well with others. The bastard’s right; I’d sell any codes I had for the right price, even to you, my dear. But I don’t have them to give you.” 

 

 “Cut the shit. I know all about the serum, the testing, and what you and your ilk plan to do with it.” Jennifer whipped out her blaster and aimed it right between his flabby jowls. 

 

“Of course you do.” Fisk waved his ring-laden fingers. “At least what they want you to know; they’ve sent you on a wild goose chase, Jennifer, strung us both along. Come now, I have no desire to rule the galaxy; that’s far too much work. This little part is challenge enough for me.” He eyed her like a delicacy on a buffet. “Feeling it yet?”

 

Her throat tightened and vision blurred at the edges; she glanced into my glass, fingers trembling, but held the gun steady. “A poison you’re immune to? That’s clever.” 

 

“Oh, no, this is just whiskey.” He sipped before continuing as my shaking grew worse. “Mira is the clever one with that distracting smile and easy touches.”

 

“If you expect me to talk, I won’t,” she said as the room began to spin. 

 

“Oh, no, Agent Walters.” The Kingpin grinned. “I expect you to die. 

  
  
  


AUTHOR’S NOTE: It’s de rigeur these days to discount popular pulp novels of the later centuries, especially ones so widespread and famous as the Alliance Falls series. With so many vid productions of varying quality (47 at current count including the reboots and failed spin-offs) and a change of authors, the stories of Agent Jennifer Walters, Agent42 of the G12 Ministry, a transgender lesbian spy, are often dismissed as nothing more than fodder for mass consumption. However, they offer a fascinating insight into the post-invasion Consortium’s view of those early days after the Alliance withdrew from the outer rim and corruption ran rampant, the third dark age as historians call it. In the original six books, Ed Brubaker, the author showcases his sparse writing style and trademark taut political plots, but it is in the next nine books, co-authored with Brian Michael Bendis, where the quintessential elements of Walters’ characters are cemented. I, like most other aficionados of the books, separate these fifteen from the ones that came after Brubaker’s death when the publisher handed off the series to Rick Remender. Aging Walters, retrospectively making her bisexual, and replacing her with her son, in my opinion, destroyed the essence of what made the novels unique. 

 

 _The Labor of Lerna_ is often listed as one of the best of the original novels, In it, Walters first encounters the Kingpin, who begins as an enemy but will later become a reluctant ally. The book also establishes the tradition of giving the hero two love interests, the long-suffering innocent Jet Star and the villainous Daneaun, Mira Quim, another in the series terrible names for women.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha *laughs hysterically*
> 
> Jennifer Walters, Agent 42, super secret galactic spy! Transgender lesbian heartbreaker! Marvel, make it so!!!!
> 
> Yeah, this is a blatant James Bond rip off. 
> 
> That's Wilson Fisk the Kingpin, best known as a Spiderman villain and from the excellent season one of Daredevil on netflix.
> 
> The name Mira can mean ruler of the ocean or waters. Quim is british slang for pussy/cunt. So ... Wet Cunt. You know that's going to be a name in the next James Bond movie. 
> 
> Ed Brubaker is the author of the Winter Soldier comic series that CA:WS is based upon. He actually appears in the movie as one of the HYDRA scientists who puts Bucky in the chair, the one who says he's been out too long. 
> 
> Brian Michael Bendis is another Marvel writer. 
> 
> Rick Remender is another Marvel writer.


	27. Chapter #13: And the Truth Shall Set You Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce officially starts the negotiation process. Phil tells his story. The gang goes shopping and it ends badly. Clint finds out a harsh truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL is overwhelming me at the moment, and this story is saving my sanity. It's my retreat from the shit storm that is working at a place where cutting costs and doing more with less in the daily mantra. Thanks everyone for sticking with me as I slowly spool out this tale. 
> 
> We're getting close to the Endgame. So much is revealed in this chapter and the next. Then it's the downward plunge to the end.

“... to start the process, Dr. Banner. I’ll have a representative of the Adjudicator's office contact you directly to begin the data gathering process. If you can make your witnesses available …” 

 

I thought it would hurt more, to hear Carol’s voice, all official and on-the-job. She was the best, even if her superiors were too bound by old-fashioned notions of hierarchy and seniority; one day she’d be running the damn place, and we used to talk about the changes she’d make. Bruce’s case just might be the one that put her on the fast track, her and Jessica both. 

 

But I only felt a twinge that might be more worry for Bruce than a pang of homesickness. Sitting between Sam and Bucky, I had a beer in my hand and my feet propped up on the table, watching Phil making sandwiches with fresh bread he’d found stashed in a kitchen bin.  A silent argument was going, Sam trying to plot a course to Danu and Bucky reaching across me to make minute changes. Bucky rerouted through the Thracian system; Sam smacked his hand and grimaced, shaking his head. Didn’t stop Bucky from trying again. I knew what they were doing, this overt performance for an audience of me. 

 

“... at a secondary location. We’ll make specific provisions for security after you drop out of hyperspace …”  

 

Phil handed me a plate, brushing his fingers on mine.  We were a good five days out of Danu; even with the work Tony had completed, the Dodger was still operating at 70% power.  We’d have to make shorter jumps and stop at least once to take on fuel and supplies.  

 

“... can be interviewed if there’s a certified Noteworthy and a Danuean present.  The exigency of the fact-gathering phase outweighs all other considerations, even prior criminal activity or bans ...”  

 

Okay, so I could give my deposition if we found someone to act as an official witness; that was good to know.  Carol’s ability to not technically break the letter of the law had saved our asses a few times before; looks like she was already three steps ahead in this situation too. 

 

“I’m certified and registered with the Notification Office,” Phil told Bruce. 

 

“We’re good on that front.”  Bruce was in the passenger quarters, but the door was wide open; we couldn’t see him, but could hear everything. “We’ll have all the statements ready within the day and can send them as a burst.” 

 

“Excellent. I’ll tell Jessica; that will help speed the process.”  

 

Sam was checking out potential way stops, picking smaller outposts off of the main trading routes, but not too far out of our way.  I pulled three names, popped up a data feed, and started reading up on them. One was a volcanic world, all ashen rock and underground caverns; the city was so small there were only five bays in the port; I flicked it aside. The second was a naturalist’s dream, a town at the base of mountains, perched on the side of a lake; most of the people who lived there worked in the tourist industry, providing for the steady stream of climbers and explorers.  The last was a farming colony, a larger hub with smaller hamlets spread over a fertile valley; they grew a type of wheat and a variant of corn, both of which were in high demand on other worlds. Large enough city and some outer rings of housing. After thinking about it, I tapped the farm world, dragging it into Sam’s plotted course. 

 

“... what I need. We’ll be in contact soon.”  Carol paused. “It was the right thing to do, ask for negotiation, Dr. Banner. A Danuean’s word is inviolate; it doesn’t matter who or where or what circumstance. Once given, it carries the full weight of the Danuean Council and Guard.” 

 

A twist in my chest and I blinked in the face of Carol’s support; she was taking a chance even hinting she knew I was involved much less sending me a message. At least now I wasn’t totally adrift. Phil smiled and nodded as if he knew it all along. 

 

“Andersonville?” Sam asked once we heard Bruce sign off. “San Tauro would be faster to get in and out of.” 

 

“Job prospects,” I explained. “A bigger city with some options works best.” 

 

“For you?” Steve leaned in the doorway. “You’ve got a job.” 

 

“He thinks we’re going to drop his ass on some rock and leave him. Idiot.” Bucky replied before I could open my mouth then ruffled my hair.  I batted his hand away.

 

“It’s better that way,” I argued.  “I don’t want to cause any trouble and would like to avoid any scenes.” 

 

“I thought they have a platform in orbit for off-worlders,” Sam said, swiping closed the star chart. “Figured we’d all stay there, well, except for Bruce.”

 

“Danueans work there; I could run into one.” I shook my head. “They’ll limit the ship’s time in holding if I’m on board. “

 

“Two words,” Phil said. “Geo-synchronized orbit.  There’s a precedent for it.” 

 

“Right.” Steve nodded.  “That’s what they did with the Alliance ships we were on. Once every so often they docked, but most of the time we were in non-declared space.” 

 

“It could be months,” I objected. 

 

“Like we’re going to leave you or Bruce.” Bucky patted my thigh. “Seriously, Barton, how can you be so damn together when it comes to fighting and fucking, but a complete mess in the rest of your life.” 

 

“Pot, kettle.” Sam reached across me and punched Bucky’s arm. “Takes one to know one.”

 

“Kiss my ass, Wilson,” Bucky shot back. “And how would you know how I fuck?”

 

“Bend over and I’ll …” Sam started to counter but a loud clang was followed by flickering lights. The floor dropped away … no, we were rising, the couch lifting too.  Everything was floating, no gravity to hold us down and keep our feet grounded. 

 

“Stark,” Steve shouted; he grabbed the door frame and turned himself around to yell into the cargo bay. 

 

I caught my sandwich before it separated into its parts and latched onto Sam’s belt loop; Bucky tightened his metal fingers around the edge of the integrated wall shelf and hung onto me with his flesh hand. From the passenger quarters, Bruce let out a sharp curse.

 

“Hold on to your stomachs.” Tony’s voice came over the speakers. “If I can reach the spindle and close the … no, Dum-e, don’t touch that … Fuck.” 

 

The flow of air from the nearest vent sputtered to a stop. 

 

“Tony!” Steve’s voice was more strident. “Tell me that wasn’t the life support.” 

 

“That wasn’t the life support.” Another loud clatter was followed by a wafting smell of burnt oil. “Just the aft-side circulation fan. For some God-be-damned reason, it’s relay is in the spot where the secondary bypass for the dampeners should be … Yeah, there, get your grubby little clamp on that …” 

 

Everything clattered to the floor including all of us, artificial gravity re-engaging.  I ended up half on Bucky’s lap and the other half under Sam. Have to say, Sam’s ass was nice and firm and in just the right spot to roll my hips and get some friction, which I did because, when I curved back, I got a nice feel of  Bucky’s cock jerking awake. 

 

“Have I mentioned I really love sandwiches?” I asked then jumped as Bucky pinched my ass hard. 

 

“Thought Phil already made you one,” Bucky said but made no move to push me off. 

 

“Clint’s an equal opportunity sandwich maker,” Phil answered; he’d managed to land on his feet using the counter as a guide rail. “One of the things I like about him.” 

 

“Oh, is he now?” Bucky’s mouth nipped at my shoulder. “You hear that, Wilson? You still got your shot.” 

 

“I might need an extra hand or two or four down here,” Tony said. “Someone’s got to hold the shaft while I slide it in place and we’ll need others to spot check at various points in the flow.” 

 

“Yeah, Stevie. Stark needs you to hold his shaft,” Bucky said. “Barton and Wilson and I are better at spotting the flow.”  

 

“Oh, fuck you, Buck.” Steve flushed beet red as he got to his feet. 

 

“Pretty sure it’s not me you want to …” Bucky cut off as Sam elbowed him in the gut; the move shifted the pile of us and I got a very nice impression of just how well-endowed Sam was when my knee slipped between his legs. “Aw, Sam, let a guy have some fun will ya?” 

 

“Um, guys?” Tony asked again. “I like my hand and want to keep it, so if you could hurry …” 

 

“On my way,” Steve said. He glanced at us. “Playtime later” 

 

The fix turned out to be extensive and complex since Tony didn’t do things half-assed.  As soon as we located one part of the problem, Tony would find six more things that had to change for peak efficiency, his favorite words.  I spent two hours in a crawl space, soldering new fittings in place of old corroded ones. We were all given jobs, fanned out across the ship, and by the time Tony judged we were safe enough for the moment, I was achy and exhausted.  When Ross had shown up, it had been after dinner, and my internal clock was telling me it was now early in the morning. 

 

My plans for talking with Natasha went out the space lock; having air to breathe, heat to keep us warm, and gravity to plant our feet on the deck was more important.  She’d gotten one of the worst assignments, the only person small enough to get into the insulation channel between the outer hull and the engine wall; the oxygen there was thin, the space cold and tight, so she’d had to wear a life support suit with hand warmers to find the coolant leakage. After she’d emerged, no one begrudged her the first shower in the crew’s quarters with the new instant heating coils Tony’s bots had installed. 

 

Sam pulled the short straw for bridge duty; he claimed to have napped earlier but I saw him take an energy drink from the galley. I was too tired to argue the point like Bucky and Steve, leaving them to their decide who would sleep while the other stood watch. Stripping down to the skin, I grabbed a towel from my duffle. I didn’t think about soap and shampoo until I was inside the small stall; thankfully, someone had filled the dispenser on the wall. The water was lukewarm but it was wet and felt pretty damn good. I lathered up, rinsed down, switched to dryers, and emerged, towel around my waist to take the five steps to my door. 

 

“So I guess the shower’s free?” Phil was waiting, leaning against the wall. “Any water left?” 

 

“You could have joined me.” I stepped up to him. “I could have used help washing my back.” 

 

“That would have been a pretty tight fit.”

 

“Yeah, it would have.” I smiled. “I like it that way.” 

 

“I know you do,” Phil said. 

 

I leaned in and brushed my lips over his. “So, you coming in?” 

 

“I’m covered in grease; give me five to get presentable.” 

 

“Phil, I’ll take you any way you are,” I murmured against the curve of his cheek. “And there’s something to be said for getting dirty.” 

 

“You are dangerous.” Phil pushed away. “Trust me, I can do down and dirty even when I’m clean.” 

 

I sauntered … maybe it was a swagger ‘cause I was about to get laid and that made me happy … into my cabin. Then I realized my bed was covered with half-unpacked stuff, no sheets on the mattress.  Springing into action, I cleared it off and dug through a box to find linens and my pack of supplies. Didn’t take long -- only had the one sheet and blanket Pepper had left -- so there was time to hang my towel on a hook, sit and slick up my hand to get a head start. 

 

Fingers curled around my cock and I breathed, focusing on the intake of breath, the release of exhale, matching the rise and fall of my chest to the loose strokes. Let my thoughts float away, focused on the pooling of blood in my groin, the steady thrumming heartbeat that drew my attention inward. No intention of going anywhere just yet, only gathering my energies, overlaying them with stirring interest. Using my other hand, I slipped one slick finger inside to the first knuckle, opening and stretching my body in preparation. 

 

“Now that _is_ playing dirty.”  Phil’s eyes traveled from top to bottom then back again, a touch I could feel on my slowly heating skin. He stepped out of his pants and hung up his towel without looking away. “Like one of those statues of ancient gods, reclining on a couch, all marble and chiseled but somehow soft.”  

 

Rising made me light-headed, burgeoning lust coiled tight in my gut; I offered my hand and he came easily, taking my place on the edge of the bed. Now he was the god, a living altar to the intimacy of the moment; folding to the floor, I sat cross-legged between his spread knees, spanned his thighs with my palms and ran my hands along the hairy skin until I could touch fingertips to pressure points. Tilting my head, I locked my gaze with his as my tongue darted out for the first taste, a light brush. 

 

“This is the supplicant’s position,” I told him. “Ready to receive, mouth and eyes open, grounded and prepared.” 

 

“You’ll have to teach me,” he murmured then exhaled as I circled his head with the tip of my tongue. “I’m not a master.” 

 

“There is no master, no dominance.”  A swirl along the bottom, the slightest press against the vein. “You are the conduit; through your pleasure, I increase my understanding of the sacred truth known only in the moment of climax. I seek inside you what cannot be seen.”  

 

Gentle touches gave way to rougher swipes as he hardened; my lips parted, I sank until my nose was nestled in his wiry hair and I breathed in his scent. Sliding back u, empty throat, exhale before parting again. 

 

“To be filled with you, to take you in, to breathe you out.” I smiled as his eyes lost focus. “We cross the threshold together and become one.” 

 

“Oh.” Phil’s head fell back against the wall as my fingers massaged and I sucked him hard, taking him deep so he could feel the muscles of my throat contract. “Clint, that’s …” 

 

I fell into the rhythm, thumping heartbeat, give and take, in and out … the primal act of advancing and retreating, being filled then emptied.  Felt his muscles jump beneath my hands, twitches and jerks building as I sped up, pushing him towards his release. His fingers tangled in my hair, held me still … being used, a partner in his pleasure, taking him to the edge and …

 

He came with a groan and I swallowed him down, a heady rush that wound me even tighter. I stayed there until he pushed me gently and helped me rise, changing our roles and taking my place on the floor. Already primed, his wet heat engulfed me and I gave over to the sensations until I tumbled into that place where I was and he was and we were, where memory and emotion and past and future jumbled together. Only us and now and the impending climax  … I shattered, and the universe followed suit, rearranging itself inside of me and Phil, this ship, this infinitely small bit of time …

 

“Wow.”  Phil stroked my back as we sprawled, tangled in the small space. “Is it always going to be like that?” 

 

Naked, sated, curled against Phil, I never wanted to move. 

 

“Nah, sometimes it’s just good old-fashioned fucking,” I said. “This is … yeah, I’m pretty primed lately for climbing the ladder of transcendence. Plus, the whole relationship thing is new; kind of thought you might pull some of that weird ‘I’m not going to come to you because then you think I’m expecting sex and that would be wrong’ logic. Only makes sense for us to share a bunk since we’re, you know.” 

 

“That concern did cross my mind,” Phil admitted. “Mostly because of earlier, though, the sharing with the class. In my experience, that puts people off of sex.”

 

“Yeah, nothing puts me off sex.”  I nuzzled into the warm skin of his shoulder. “And you pretty much figured it out anyway and still jumped me in the sauna so must not have freaked you out too much.” 

 

“Actually, I understand, better than most.”  Phil’s fingers paused in their wandering paths. “I didn’t break the sanctity of negotiation; for me, it was the unwritten rule about not ratting out your fellow officers. What happens in the corps is supposed to stay in the corps, and I told the truth instead.”

 

I knew when to open my mouth … heh … and this was a time to listen.  

 

“Had a friend in Company C, one of the ones who refused the order to fire.  He tried to talk, to tell the truth, but Blonsky and Ross and the others destroyed his reputation, tried to force him into a dishonorable discharge or face a court-martial. Jasper almost took it; hell of a thing to go against your squad and face down the big brass.  It was effectively his word against the rest of theirs.” Phil sighed and I could tell where this story was going; he was too good of a man to let a friend stand alone. “I was a level seven team handler -- coordinated movements and missions, sometimes on the ground, sometimes from the ship; my clearance was high enough that I could get past firewalls they’d put up and find some of the files to give Jasper an edge, enough so he could muster out with an honorable discharge with full benefits and pay.  Had to burn some bridges to do it and I got myself on Ross’ radar; nothing I did was against the rules, but he wasn’t happy to have even that much info made public knowledge. So I got shuffled around, given the shit postings in out of the way places; ended up in purchasing, pushing files and ordering cases of toilet paper. That’s how I figured out what was happening at the Raft and the Cube, about Barneo and the other testing sites; got to have tables and restraints and centrifuges and needles and drugs … and someone has to do the paperwork.”

 

“Blowing the whistle didn’t work for your friend, and you were being watched.”  I lifted my head and rested my chin on his chest so I could see his face. “At the peace negotiations, there were all these documents; someone said a bunch had been leaked …” 

 

“I was born on Willamette Clearing, way out on the edge of the known colonies; joined the Alliance right out of school, wanted to see the galaxy, travel, make a career out of the military, the usual. Had no clue about corruption and just how deep it ran in the corps; thought I was going to save people and do some good.” He chuckled, a rueful sound of someone older and wiser. “If I hadn’t, I’d have ended up a Bluecoat or an activist like most of the people I grew up with; finding someone to send the data too wasn’t hard at all.  When my re-up date came around, I resigned my commission like everyone had been pressuring me to do and sent the link the next day.” 

 

“You helped bring an end to the war, Phil.”  I stroked my fingers along the stubble on his jaw. “Saved lives.” 

 

He huffed at my assertion. “I should have seen it sooner, should have acted faster. The culture of violence, the tacit approval of the upper echelon, the rampant racism and classism and sexism … I knew the system was rotten and I didn’t do anything. God, I look at Bucky and I know what they did to him. Bruce, taking that chance to inject himself with the cure.  Sam, walking into that Khandil shit storm …”

 

“Hey,”  I lifted on my elbow. “You don’t get to blame yourself for the shitty things others did any more than I’m responsible for my brother almost blowing up a room full of people. One thing I’ve never doubted is the decision I made, when I made it, why I made it; I can hate the consequences, what happened next, but it was the right thing to do at that moment.  That’s all we can do, Phil, take the opportunity when the path forks. If you’d left earlier, you wouldn’t have seen those purchases cross your desk, wouldn’t have made the connection, helped shut those prisons down. If I hadn’t talked to Barney, not been part of the detail, he would have found someone else to get him the stuff and then Jess and the Ulaanbaatarans would be dead. We can’t turn back; the way only goes forward. Best we can do is live in the here and now.”

 

“Never have figured out how to do that,” Phil admitted. “Too many details to worry about, mistakes to replay.”

 

“Maybe I can help you with that.”  I dropped a kiss along his collarbone. “We can do it together.” 

 

He tightened his arms around me. “I’m willing to try. Tomorrow. After we get some sleep.” 

 

“Agreed.” My eyes were already sliding shut. “If I get too heavy, push me off. Don’t mind being the big or little spoon.” 

 

Didn’t occur to me until later the next day that I’d meant to ask him about Natasha and her secrets. 

 

* * *

 

San Tauro was gorgeous, I’ll give it that, a picture-perfect image of green mountains and blue water and white snow caps. The whole colony had been planned, from the layout of the streets to the placement of the vacation cabins for the best views.  Pointed roofs with ornate white latticework … gingerbread was the term, patterned after something called Alpine Nuevo style -- and wooden planked sides painted in bright colors. No building taller than three stories, fountains in the middle of circular roundabouts, cobble streets -- it was all a little too much for me, like a theme park rather than a place to live. Still, the port ran like a top, no delays, clear pad, simple touchdown, and very few questions.  Helped that Tony supplied the name, some woman called Emma Frost that he probably had fucked multiple times considering how he avoided Steve’s eyes when he tossed it out. She ran a famous sex club that had hired ships busily picking up shipments and carrying outrageously priced merchandise from one posh world to another. No one blinked an eye when I hinted the Twenty Carats was dropping off a package for a guest at the most expensive resort. The rich get what they want and everyone turns a blind eye; pisses me off. A lot. 

 

We split into teams to speed things along; refueling would take three San Tauro hours and we had shopping to do, gathering Tony’s ‘I need it now’ list.  Steve was on pantry replenishment; more crew meant more food to feed us all. Bucky and Natasha took the priciest half of Tony’s list; Phil and I took the other.  Tony, to my surprise, elected to stay on board with Bruce and Sam and keep the engine warm; I think the whole Stane betrayal was finally hitting home or Tony was a lot more self-aware than people gave him credit for.  Of all of us, his was the face hardest to hide and he admitted that much. As it was, Steve donned a port worker’s jacket and cap, Phil and I had the image distorters, and Natasha went wealthy ski bunny, Bucky her valet, lugging around the purchases for her beloved suped-up Lionheart.  Where she found the fur collar, I had no idea. 

 

We hit the third place … the biggest of them all, the kind that had a bit of everything and was located in every port and found  Natasha and Bucky already running a salesperson ragged. Phil and I started gathering belts and solder and the little bits and bobs that always seem to be leftover or missing when you need them.  I was grabbing t-junctions, trying to decipher Tony’s chicken scratch numbers, when a woman rounded the end of the aisle; taller than me, she had a sandy brown braid hanging down her back, muscular biceps and a glare in her brown eyes that made my hair stand on end.  Her shoulders were wide enough to block me, so I turned around, only to find a guy at the other end, matching menace in his look. 

 

“Um, excuse me.”  I angled my body so I could see them both; neither moved nor said a word. “I need to get by …” 

 

They closed in, and my basket full of parts clattered to the floor as I snagged two darts, wrapping my hands around them and jamming them into the closest body part.  I ducked, letting their momentum bring them together in a tangle of arms reaching for me, rolled out of the way, then jumped up and ran. Dodging around display shelves, I saw two more closing in; I crashed into bins and sent things flying as I scrambled out of the way.  People shouted; I shoved an employee into the path, frantically looking for Phil and thumbing on my comm unit. 

 

“Um, got a little trouble here,” I said as I jumped over the parts counter and dashed into the warehouse section. “I’ve got big and burlies on my tail.” 

 

Skidding around a high pile of boxes, I almost plowed into two more of the fuckers covering the emergency door. Backpedaling, I caught a shelf and swung myself up, tipping two big bins over the edge as I clambered to the top; a rain of tiny metal bits showered down on my pursuers. 

 

“I’m outside.” Phil’s was the first voice to answer. “There’s one watcher on the loading dock; I can take her out.” 

 

A hand grabbed my ankle; I kicked out and landed a solid blow on the dude’s nose, hearing a loud snap of bone. 

 

“I’m almost back to the ship,” Steve said. “Fuck, they’re here. How the hell did they find us?” 

 

Too busy to worry about the why, all I cared about at the moment was how to get away. Wasn’t enough room to stand on the top shelf; I had to squat and try to make my way around the many obstacles. Might as well use them to my advantage; I knocked as much off as I could then jumped to the next row, the whole structure wobbling as I landed. 

 

“Don’t come back, Steve,” Natasha cut in. “Get on board and get out of here. Don’t let them near Bruce.” 

 

I could see the open dock one more row over; with another jump, I landed only long enough to bounce up and flip down to the floor beyond.  Breaking into a run, I saw Phil standing at the corner of the wall that lead into a back alley.  

 

“We can hold ‘em off,” Steve insisted, only to be cut short by the sound of blaster fire. “Damn it, that’ll draw the port authority force.” 

 

“We’ll catch up with ya’,” Bucky promised. “Just get your ass out of here. You hear that, Wilson? Fire the thrusters and lift off. We’re …” 

 

I stumbled to a halt as I saw the weapon held to Phil’s head; the four behind me caught my arms and yanked them behind my back, shoving me down to my knees.  

 

“Quite a merry little chase you’ve led us on, Mr. Barton,” the woman with the gun said. Statuesque with raven dark hair, her lips quirked in a cold parody of a smile. “But it’s time we brought an end to it, don’t you think?”

 

Grunts, a thunk, Bucky cursing … then a chilling whimper of pain followed by silence.  I clenched my fists, impotent to do anything. 

 

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, but this isn’t going to end well for you. That I promise,” I ground out. “You hurt Phil and I’ll …” 

 

Two more goons came out of the store, dragging an unconscious Bucky between them. 

 

“Buck? Clint?”  Steve called. “Can you hear me? Tony fried these guys with some repulsor thing. We’re gonna head back …”

 

“Don’t. Go now. There’s more on the way..” Natasha appeared from behind me; she walked up to the woman planted herself between us. “Don’t stop until you’re safe.” 

 

“That’s enough of that.” The woman nodded and one of the guys yanked the comm out of my ear; the others did the same to Bucky and Phil. Natasha surrendered hers to the woman in charge. “You’ve been a bad girl, Natalia. Who’d have thought you, of all people, would go native on us? Oh, right, I warned them you were going soft, too much time on your own, not enough in the chair.  I’m sure they’ll fix that first thing.” 

 

Coincidence. Meeting Bruce at the bar had been a coincidence for not just me, but Natasha too.  The job, the money, Mob Mom and Big Darcus … good God, it had all been a set up from the start. 

 

“You were there for me.”  My voice was flat, the cold stab of truth twisting in my gut. “I have no idea why, but it was always about me, wasn’t it?”

 

“Yes,” the woman answered. “Our LIttle Spider was sent to reel you into our web; the good doctor’s serum was a happy accident.  But somewhere along the way, she decided she wanted you for herself to … what, Talia? … sell to the highest bidder? I know it’s not love; the protocol made sure of that.” 

 

“I’m sorry, Clint.”  Natasha never took her eyes off the other woman. “I thought I got the trackers out and flushed them into space.” 

 

“Oh, you did.  Ross is our creature now; Blonsky has been for years. Once we knew Banner asked for a negotiation, wasn’t hard to estimate that garbage scow’s range and plot your course. Your broad-shouldered captain is very predictable, and knowing Stark’s habit of tearing things apart, there’d be a long shopping list.” 

 

I took a deep breath, mentally counted the darts in my pocket, added the time to get my bow out of my pack, measured distances, and calculated the odds. With Bucky unconscious, Phil would have to …

 

“You won’t make it.” Natasha finally turned her eyes my way. “At least two snipers, another team waiting in the transpo … She has every angle covered.  Your best chance to survive is to go quietly.”

 

“I should trust you … why?” A bristle of anger at the lies, the manipulation flared then ebbed as the woman’s words echoed. The chair. Trackers. Protocol. Fix it. It was all part and parcel of the same thing; serums and testing and building the perfect soldier … or spy. 

 

“You shouldn’t, of course,” the woman said. “It’s in her DNA. Literally. But I tell you what; you give us what we need and, maybe, I won’t kill you.” 

 

“And what exactly is that? What you want me for?” I asked. 

 

“Why, darling, don’t you know how special you are? You’re the only Danuean who’s ever left the planet and you have all sorts of details some would pay a lot of money to hear. Building layouts. Security measures. Location of training facilities and government buildings and where visiting delegations are housed.” She laughed, a heartless sound that splintered in the air. “You’re going to help us make a little unannounced visit.”

 

My eyes widened and the knife twisted tighter. 

 

“We’ll start with the air vents,” she said. “I hear you know all about them.” 

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the comics, Carol Danvers (Captain Marvel) and Clint are good friends; I've carried that over here. He also dates Jessica Drew (Spiderwoman) and, as most of Clint's relationships, it doesn't last. 
> 
> Jasper Sitwell makes an appearance and, yes, that's a nod to Melinda May when Phil ends up doing paperwork just like she did at the beginning of AOS. 
> 
> Chairs and protocols and "fixing" Nat ... could that be this universe's version of the Red Room? Or is that just part of a bigger organization at work in the shadows ...


	28. Inter Chapter 14: From the personal letters of Morgan Stark, SI collection 87473.0047.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the personal letters of Morgan Stark, SI collection 87473.0047.
> 
> From: Morgan Stark, CEO of Stark Galactic  
> To: Shuri Samburu, Head of Research and Development of Wakanda Interstellar Labs.   
> Date: 14.3176.42

_ From the personal letters of Morgan Stark, SI collection 87473.0047. _

 

_ From: Morgan Stark, CEO of Stark Galactic _

_ To: Shuri Samburu, Head of Research and Development of Wakanda Interstellar Labs.  _

_ Date: 14.3176.42 _

 

… received the data stream of your work on the subspace transporter beam on the last wave.  Good Lord, it was so simple, I can’t believe we didn’t think of it before! All this pussy-assing around about relative speed and gravity wells and hours lost to that stupid argument about the density of liquid hydrogen in condensed concave space and it was as easy as that. (I’m right, by the way, about the hydrogen thing. You owe me a case of that Wakandan ice wine. Bring it next time you visit so we can get drunk and buzz the Richards-Storm spire again. That was the most fun I’ve had in ages … the multiple orgasms, of course, and hanging up on R.S. three times in a row). 

 

Realizing that it’s space that’s moving? FUCKING BRILLIANT, WOMAN! Dropped that little bomb into my calculations for Betsy’s ionic engine upgrade and, boom baby, once I stopped thinking of her outer panels as the problem and realized I needed to create a buff between moving space and her hull, she’s purring like a panther kitten in a catnip patch (now, that’s a good memory). 

 

Took her on a short hop over to see the Rogers’ new baby … yep, that’s the third, James says he’s up for adopting a couple more and Kamila’s all for raising the next generation … I’m telling you, darling, Betsy’s better than all those “faster, sleeker” pieces of shit they’re cranking out to sell to unsuspecting buyers. Deathtraps, all of ‘em, and the ones DI’s pitching to the military are even worse. 

 

I know, preaching, me. You, choir.  Like load differential and the Albright/Morse equations are top of anyone’s list when it comes to dealing with the plague mutations and space travel. Politicians are too busy getting re-elected and padding their own pockets while the top brass are looking for new and more explosive ways to kill people ... 

 

… Sometimes I think of those stories Mom told, the ones about great times great granddad and his gang of misfits, how they took on the whole corrupt system and kicked some ass. Maybe one day that’ll be us, out there in the black, flying around on Betsy, either saving the universe or avenging it …

  
  
  
  


_ AUTHOR’S NOTE:  Among the data I received from my information request, the correspondence between Morgan Stark and her long-time lover Shuri Samburu was some of the more challenging to decipher.  Often filled with scientific formulas and in-depth discussions of their current projects, written between the variables and advanced math is a relationship of two women who were mental equals as well as also trusted and valued friends.  For those interested in reading more, I highly recommend America Chavez’s biography, Shuri: Princess of Wakanda. Chavez’s writing style is lyrical and multi-level; the scene where Morgan says goodbye to Shuri before her fateful run behind Kree lines makes me tear up every time.   _

 

_ This portion comes from one of the corrupt sections of the crystal and refers to the Tony Stark of Clint’s era; Morgan calls him her great times great grandad throughout her writings.  It’s interesting to note that it was Tony Stark who did the first work on trans-warp disruption, long before Morgan Stark patented her beaming process. The underlying theory, Subspace Curvature Overlay Trans Teleportation Yield or S.C.O.T.T.Y., is the basis of today’s world-to-world transfers and hyperspace hubs.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be falling in love with Morgan Stark and her ship Betsy ... and who better to pair her with than Shuri?? 
> 
> Used James Rogers from The Next Avengers: Hero of Tomorrow and married him off to Kamila Khan, Ms. Marvel, cause why not?
> 
> Let's hope that Morgan didn't use Admiral Archer's prized beagle to test drive S.C.O.T.T.Y. *winks*


	29. Pitch and Yaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gives up everything in interrogation. Natasha may or may not be a bad guy. Blonsky definitely is a bad guy and has been into things he should be. There's crawling through vents, grappling arrows, and a fair bit of figuring it all out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: There is an attempted assault at the beginning of the chapter along with talk about assault afterward. See the end notes if you want to skip that section. 
> 
> Real life is super overwhelming right now; I'm plugging along in this 'verse because no power can stop me!!! :)

“This is overkill,” I protested, pulling at the wrist cuffs that held my hands behind my back. “You seem to think I’m not going to cooperate; I’d have spilled my guts for a pint or two.” 

 

When they’d taken us off-planet in the transport ship, shackled and literally under the gun, we’d docked on a large cruiser, the kind of ship with a compliment of at least thirty crew and space for lots of soldiers or mercenaries or whatever these guys were. Sleek, new, all shiny chrome with the most uncomfortable chairs, the whole set up screamed “we have more money than sense” considering they’d used a Hammer frame with Von Doom parts.  The place looked great … a strong crazy cult of personality vibe notwithstanding … but it was built with crappy, cheap components.  

 

Not that I’d gotten to see more than the landing bay, a couple of hallways, this interior room… and who the hell besides the Alliance had a full-kitted out interrogation chamber? … and the tiny head next door.  Really upset Burly Woman from the parts store had dropped my ass in this mockery of a seat with no back support, locked my ankles into place, then stood by the door and glared at me until Lady in charge finally came back. Of Phil and Bucky, I knew nothing; they’d been dragged down another corridor, and Natasha, well, I assumed she was giving her own command appearance before the higher muckety-mucks, the ones she’d kicked to the curb when she’d tried to help us.  

 

Yeah, it had finally all clicked together, the pieces and parts that had been floating around my brain. The third party, that’s who these fuckers were, the ones who attacked us on the street on Riviera, found us in the bar on Carson’s Corners and shown up at Tony’s place after Ross arrived. While the Alliance and Willinno Tech had been busily chasing after Bruce’s cure and the mutated serum in order to use it for their own nefarious purposes, these guys had been playing a long game to disrupt a negotiation. Which one, well, I was out of the loop on what all was on the docket in the Grand Hall and had no clue what their goal was. There were so many different reasons people came to the table. 

 

She’d made me wait, a weak intimidation tactic; I used the time to plan my counter-attack.  I may not have been on the fast track for the adjudicator ranks … patience wasn’t my long suit … but even basic Danuean training was better than anything this bitch was going to throw my way.  I’d had enough letting things happen to me; they had Phil and Bucky and that was a bridge too far. 

 

“But where would be the fun in that?”  She all but purred as she crowded into my personal space, running her fingers down the back of my neck. I still didn’t know her name, just that she liked skin-tight catsuits and had long fingernails painted emerald green. “No harm in a little play … at least not for me.” 

 

A slight glazing to her dark eyes, quickened breaths … either she’d stop to take a hit of something or she got off on other people’s pain. I was voting on the last one considering how she pressed her nails into my bicep and left long scratches on my forearm. 

 

“Okay.” I drew the word out. “That’s not ominous or anything.” 

 

She laughed, a chilly titter that didn’t bother to cover her disdain. “I have a wealth of new toys … a bluecoat and an alliance man and you, a trained sex doll … but I”m afraid it’s work first, pleasure later. It’s a simple proposition; talk and you live until tomorrow.” 

 

“No.”  I shook my head. “I talk and my friends live. All of them including Natasha.” 

 

That surprised her. “You bargain for Natalia? After she betrayed you?” 

 

“That’s my opening salvo. Phil. Bucky. Natasha. They stay safe … no torture, physical or psychological … and I tell you what you want to know. I’ll even give you a good faith gesture; the air vents are small, too small for Bertha back there,” I nodded to the female guard and the man beside her, “or Big Bob; they’re a tight fit for someone my size. Vertical ones are slick and impossible to navigate because they narrow down at the junctions; horizontal ones someone can slip through between rooms on the same floor, but not past bulkheads. Oh, and there are aerosol screens at each opening to stop gas or airborne attacks.” I paused, pretended to think about it. “Probably have installed a way to keep a person out now that they’re aware that’s a possibility.” 

 

“Ionized laser streams,” she said. “Slice through any matter that attempts to enter a room that way. Weapon detectors too. Overkill, but you Danueans are like that. Never do things by halves.” 

 

“If it’s not worth doing …” I didn’t finish the old saying just left it hanging.  So she and the faction she worked for must have a planetside person if they knew the upgrades. 

 

“Indeed.” She left a scratch on my cheek deep enough to draw blood before she spoke to the guard.  “Magda, tell the watch to leave our guests in the cells alone for the time being.”

 

“And Natasha too,” I reminded. 

 

“Natalia’s fate is out of my hands; our Leader will determine her punishment.” 

 

“Natasha’s fate is in my hands,” I said. “Unless they don’t want my information.” 

 

Anger flashed in her dark eyes; her contempt for Natasha was definitely personal. 

 

“And pass along our prisoner’s cooperation as well as his request for Natalia,” she added. 

 

“Natasha,” I corrected.  

 

“Yes, yes, whatever. Go.”  She grimaced and dug her fingers into my thigh. “Now, I ask the questions…” 

 

“... and I tell you what I know,” I finished. 

 

There’s a rhythm to lying, a dance between words and silence, tantalizing glimpses of truth partnered with plausible details. She’d never believe me if I explained about compartmentalized knowledge, rooms not scheduled until all parties were planetside, the multitude of locations scattered across all the major cities, and ever-changing security protocols and passwords. And, even if they figured out all of the variables of date, time, and place, there was the small fact that every one of the Danueans they passed … above the planet, on the street, in the building … were trained and experienced fighters willing to risk all to stop them. They never thought that through, the impossible gauntlet. Barney only got as far as he did because he was one of us. So I gave her specifics and generalities and answered everything she asked.

 

“Surely you know where they’ll stash Dr. Banner?” She’d been getting closer and closer, leaning over, showing her breasts, practically rubbing them in my face.  Like she thought I’d roll over because she had tits. Amateur. 

 

“Depends.” Bruce was going to get the highest of special treatment because, first, he’d lived on world and knew people, and, second, cure for the plague and super soldiers. “The Alliance will bring a shit ton of people and argue way too many of them need to be in attendance; the number they decide on will determine the size of the room. It’s a random draw system with each venue weighted by seventeen different variables …” 

 

Stop.” She pressed her hand to my mouth. “Never thought I’d say this, but you talk too much. Get to the point.” 

 

“Guess you’re not into extended foreplay then.”  I gave her a wink that I didn’t mean. “Words are sexy.” 

 

“You’re running out the clock.” She caught my chin and turned my face up to hers. “Don’t think I’m that stupid; I know what you’re doing. If you …” A buzz and she cursed under her breath; with a flick of her wrist, she pushed my head away and stormed to a vid panel on the wall. “Sarkissian here.” 

 

“Your presence is requested in the Leader’s office,” a voice answered.

 

“I’m in the middle of an interrogation,” she complained. “I’ll be there when I’m done.” 

 

“Now, Madame. He was very clear on that fact.”  

 

“On my way.” She stabbed the button and cut off the call. “Damn it all to hell; she got to him.” With a stomp of her foot, she tossed her dark hair over her shoulder. “Take him to his cell,” she told the remaining guard. “Don’t let anyone, and I mean anyone, but me near him.” 

 

“Yes, Madame,” he agreed. 

 

He was none to gentle as he yanked me up; yeah, he was one of the guys who got a box of nails on his head. Punctures and scratches covered his exposed skin. Wasn’t too surprised when two more guys joined him, flanking me as he dragged me down the hall fast enough to make me stumble in the restraints. Somebody held a bit of a grudge, it seemed. 

 

The route to the brig took us past crew quarters, a large room filled with bunks, a galley with empty tables, and a series of spaces that looked like labs and conference rooms. A turn and we headed into a hall with a  maintenance workshop and a storage area. Then we entered a room with an empty guard station in the middle and four cells, two on each of the long sides, clear shimmering barriers keeping the prisoners inside. Phil immediately stood up as we entered; Bucky was already on his feet, angry tension running through his body. 

 

“You okay?” Bucky asked. 

 

“I’m good.” They dropped the field and shoved me in an opposite cell. “Just wanted to know …” 

 

“Shut the fuck up.” The guard punched me in the stomach; I doubled over, my breath knocked out of me. “Fucking coward, spilling your guts so easy. All that bullshit about how tough your kind are and you bent over at the first threat.” 

 

“No reason to hide if it isn’t a secret.”  I tried to straight up, but the others caught hold of my elbows. “Anyone could tell you the same things.” 

 

“Yeah, see, I think you just like to open your mouth, don’t you?  That’s what they say, you’re nothing but a bunch of sluts, ready for anything.” He grinned and cold twisted in my gut; I tried to wrench away, free my arms, but they held me fast. “The least you can do is give us a little something for all the trouble you put us through.”

 

“Sorry, you’re not my type.” I twisted my torso, an attempt to extract myself so I could fight back. 

 

“Nah, now I know you people like whips and chains and leaving bruises.”  He started unbuckling his belt. “It’s all a … what do you call it .. scene? Right. Pretending you don’t want it when you do.” 

 

“You’re confusing your fucked up psyche with reality.” Rolling to my left, I got the drop on one of them, bringing my heel down on his foot hard.  

 

“Get him,” the first guy ordered. “Hold him down.” 

 

I landed another blow in the scuffle but, hobbled as I was with restraints, I couldn’t stop them from shoving me against the wall, their hands pinning me in place.  Pressed tight, my cheek rested on the metal and I struggled to get a breath as they yanked at my pants. The cold exploded in my chest and I shivered all over, desperately trying to remember Sensei’s teaching on power and release, how to separate body and mind.  

 

“... motherfuckers, I’m going to fucking end you …”  

 

Bucky was shouting, echoing and loud. 

 

“ … killed her on Carson’s Corners, you and your friends, left him to bleed out. Now I’m going to take it out of your ass, you Danuean whore …” 

 

The guy’s fingers bit into my hips, his whisper too loud in my ears to ignore.  I couldn’t do it, couldn’t count the inhales, couldn’t pull back from my skin. Too much, too real, it was all … I bit my lip until I felt the tang of blood and shoved deep the sounds that threatened to burst out.  

 

“Clint.” 

 

Phil. His voice cut through my panic. 

 

“Clint.” 

 

I opened eyes I didn’t realize I’d squeezed shut; Phil was at the barrier of his cell, waiting for me.  

 

“I’m here; stay with me. Together, right? The connections. Let us help.” 

 

Arms around me, curled closed, safety, warmth … I floated across the space and into Phil, his calm wrapping me tight, a buffer between body and mind.  

 

“We’re here and we’re coming for you.” 

 

Bucky’s strength flowed into me, anger chasing away the cold.  I stilled, drew it in, spooled it out, the two energies; I flexed my fingers and filled my lungs with their support. 

 

Then I exploded into action. 

 

Without warning, I stopped resisting, collapsing my knees and sagging to the floor. Once I was on my knees, I rolled onto my back, put my feet on the wall and shoved, slamming into my attacker’s legs, knocking him off balance.  I rolled to the side and out of the way. Tucking my body in tight, I scooting my hands under my ass and contorted until I slid them under my feet and got them in front of me; now I could punch two-fisted, the cuffs like brass knuckles as I sideswiped heads. I kicked ‘em in the balls and bit down hard on any fingers or hand that came close enough. 

 

“You fuckin’ asshole.” The lead guard got a handful of my hair, and I let him haul me to my feet so I could nail him with a head butt. “Gonna kill you, motherfu …”

 

The laser beam caught him in the chest and he fell before the blood welled out of the scorched wound.  The other two barely turned before they were dead, joining the first guy on the floor. Tucking the laser gun into her belt, Natasha stepped closer to me, her eyes taking in my disheveled appearance; with gentle hands, she helped me fasten my pants back together. 

 

“This has Ophelia’s stench all over it,” she said, turning to the three men behind her. “Find her.” 

 

With a nod, two left, the other heading to the guard’s chair.  

 

“Nat?” I was still in a daze; like a computer coming back online, my senses were sliding back into my body. 

 

“Open cell three,” she said, guiding me to where Phil waited. “As long as you are cooperating, you are under my protection.  The Leader has validated our deal; no one has access except me, understand?” 

 

“Yes.” At least I thought I did. She’d somehow talked them into believing she’d remained loyal all along. Maybe she had played me or maybe she was playing them; I didn’t know and, right at this moment, I didn’t care.  

 

“Move the other one in here too; there will be no accidents or incidents.”  An icy tone covered her words and the remaining guard’s eyes widened. 

 

“Of course Agent Romanova.” 

 

“Good.”  With one last brush of her fingers on my arm, she exited the cell. “We’ll begin again tomorrow, once our source provides us with more detailed information.” 

 

For a second, her back was to the guard and she mouthed, _be ready_ then she was gone. 

 

“Fuckers, every damn one of ya.” Bucky cursed as the guard pushed him inside, his prosthetic hanging limply at his side. “You okay?” he asked me. 

 

“Yeah, I’m …” 

 

It hit me, the reality of what had almost happened, and my knees gave way; Phil guided me to the bunk, filling the space on my right, pressing body-to-body from ankle to knee to hip to shoulder.  

 

“Shove over.”  Bucky nudged until there was room on my left, bookending me between their solid support. “Take some of those deep breaths you like, let it roll through you. Gotta work the adrenaline out before you drop.” 

 

Shaking ran along my spine; strong hands gripped mine and I squeezed, unwilling to break down. Things were already bad enough without bringing snotty tears and emotions into it. So I focused on the air going in, my chest expanding, then rushing out, chest falling; the heat of their bodies grounded me and the tremors drained down to my feet and out into the floor, joining the vibrations of the ship traveling at hyperspeed. 

 

“Whatever that guy said, he was a weak asshole, okay?” Bucky’s fingers were long and slim against my stubbier ones, almost delicate except for the crooked pointer and the callouses on the tips. “God damn power play, that’s what it was. He was low man on the roster, probably a major fuck-up, so he gets off on hurting those he can because he can. Fuckers are all alike; they join up, can’t go fair ‘cause they’re incompetent idiots, then take it out on others. Ain’t got nothing to do with sex.”  He sighed. “Always end up as prison guards, gives them a captive audience. There was this one messed up psychotic, she had a thing for broom handles and taking on the biggest guy she could find. Alliance promoted her real fast; last I heard she was a warden at one of the new black sites.” 

 

The niggling surety that Bucky was speaking from first-hand knowledge had me turning my head his way and burying my nose in the soft spot behind his ear. 

 

“Jesus, Buck.”  I murmured. “Does Steve know?” 

 

“You kidding? You’ve seen Steve’s shoulders, his ass. You think they left him alone? Nah, we both agreed best to let that shit go. Not going to let those bastards keep us from having good things, you know? Got each other, a ship, and now there are the crazy lot of you idiots running around. Best revenge is living well.”

 

A sound bubbled up in my throat, something halfway between a laugh and sob; the answer was so damn James Buchanan Barnes that it made me smile and want to cry at the same time. 

 

“You’re a piece of work,” I told him. 

 

“Thank you,” he replied, ever so solemnly. Then I really did laugh. 

 

“What the fuck happened to your arm?”  I asked when I stopped chuckling. “Thought that was a Stark special, self-contained power source and all that fancy stuff.” 

 

“EMP button.” Bucky turned it so I could see the silver disc attached. “Every time it powers up, damn thing shuts it down again” 

 

“You should have words with Tony if we get out of here,” I told him. 

 

“When. When we get out of here. Trust me, Steve will not leave us. He’s genetically incapable of walking away from even the most suicidal of all suicide missions. He’ll be here.” 

 

Bucky sounded so damn sure of himself and I really wanted to believe him.  Me, I was putting my money on Natasha having some escape plan or Phil masterminding a breakout. Steve would have to get in line. 

 

“So …” I glanced over at Phil. “They asked me about the Grand Hall and negotiation protocol in general, nothing specific.” 

 

“I hope you told them everything.”  Phil gently stroked my palm with his fingers. “It’s not like any of the information is a big secret.  I probably know as much as you do just from arranging our part in the two different negotiations I was involved in. Anyone who organizes a delegation knows all you need to know.” 

 

“Tried to tell them they’d have to wait until whatever specific one they’re interested began, but they didn’t seem to care. Far as I know, it’s pretty quiet right now; can’t imagine who they’re targeting.”

 

Phil raised an eyebrow. 

 

“Yeah, that one, but it’s not even in the discovery stage; no need to ask me about things that haven’t even been talked about.”

 

He tilted his head to the side. 

 

“They change the protocols by an oscillating program that assigns randomized data strings every Danuean day. Guard rotations are as simple as they come; on eight, off twelve, then do it again, and we didn’t know jack shit about tomorrow’s schedule until we came on duty.” 

 

“You knew,” he reminded me. “More than you should.”

 

I rolled my eyes. “Only because. The odds of that happening again are … well, we may be the only ones. Can’t think of any others in the same boat. Besides, it was me, I was first. The rest just happenstance. So that makes it a moot point.”  That made me think of Natasha. “Did you know? About …” 

 

He shook his head. “No, and I didn’t ask. People come with lots of baggage; I go by how they act, if they keep their word. Only thing that matters out here.” 

 

“Yeah. I’m getting that.” I thought about Bruce and Steve and Sam and Tony then I remembered Stane and Ross and that Blonsky character. “Seems like whoever these guys are, they’ve got their fingers in everything. Question is, what’s the dastardly plan?” 

 

“You keep thinking it’s gotta be logical,” Bucky said. “Maybe it’s the disruption itself they’re after. Causing chaos and burning things down. Blonsky’s like that; he enjoys hurting others, being stronger than everyone else. Could just want to blow shit up.” 

 

Chaos.  Yeah, I could see it.  After the rebellion, the atrocities that had come to light, the Alliance was shaky, public trust almost gone. Soon as the truth about the plague came out, people would know about Willinno Tech and the other companies involved. The Space Guard was over-extended, spread further out than anyone had ever planned; they’d be hard-pressed to step into the gap if the Alliance failed. Undermine trust in them and that left one place people would turn to, the bottom line when it came to smaller, weaker parties having an opportunity to redress the injustice and inequities … Danu. 

 

“Hit a couple, in and out, show it can be done …” I was thinking out loud. 

 

“... blame Alliance brass or company forces then raise questions afterward…” Phil continued. 

 

“Corruption’s everywhere, who can you trust, not those guys …” Bucky shrugged. “There’s those who would benefit from the collapse.” 

 

“Good God.” Phil held perfectly still. “Seed your own people inside, find high recognition scapegoats … they’re already doing it.” 

 

“Fucking hell,” I whispered. 

 

There was nowhere for us to go, nothing to do but sit or stand and let the realization sink in.  The guard outside ignored us, fiddling with the vid screen for a long while. Sometime later, a team showed up to take away the bodies and clean up the mess; a couple of them glared our way but didn’t speak. Time passed and food showed up through a slot that opened in the wall, boring protein bites and compressed vitamin bread.  When we got tired, we slept in shifts, one awake while the other two dozed. I curled up, head on Phil’s lap, then Phil lay down and tucked his feet under Bucky’s leg; Bucky flopped on top of me when It was our turn, tucking his inert arm between me and the wall. The lights dimmed for what could have been eight solar hours, another unappetizing meal arrived, and the guard changed twice. We gave each other privacy when needed, turning our backs to the toilet in the corner and blocking the view from the room beyond. I was used to close quarters -- always shared with Barney when we were kids and, later, lived in the barracks because it didn’t make sense to pay for more when I had a bunk and a commissary and cafeteria. The others seemed just as at ease; space will do that to you, the tiny spaces surrounded by absolute black. Those who could take it made the best freighter crews and pilots; those who couldn’t, found planets with wide-open vistas to explore. Takes all kinds. 

 

When I couldn’t take sitting anymore, I started stretching, simple yoga positions to keep my muscles from seizing up and my brain from circling the same problem again and again. Bucky joined me then Phil did too; we had to limit the poses to ones without a lot of reach, but I felt better after a couple dozen sun and moon salutations, and we all laughed when Bucky forgot his arm didn’t work then toppled into Phil. Turned out, Phil was a Tai Chi guy; by the time he finished running us through forms, I was feeling pretty damn loose and less itchy under the skin. 

 

A few hours into the second dimming of the lights, I felt the ship shudder as I stood guard, the background hum of the engines changing pitch. 

 

 “We dropped out of hyperspace,” Bucky said, his head coming up.  

 

Phil’s eyes immediately blinked open. “Too soon to be at Danu.” 

 

The force field flickered, almost imperceptibly but I caught it.  The guard frowned as the panels on his station did the same, in and out then back again, three times in a row. He glowered over at us, rose to check the door, huffed, then sat back down in his chair. 

 

“Fucking piece of shit system, that’s what it is,” he muttered. 

 

I shrugged; wouldn’t be the first ghost in the machine, shoddy wiring and poor manufacturing at work. It was only when I turned that I saw the faint glow between the plates of Bucky’s arm. Rather than say anything, I wandered over and leaned down, blocking the camera in the corner’s view. 

 

“Almost time to switch.” I tapped the spot just below his elbow; a tiny vid screen opened and words began to scroll across, almost transparent unless I looked at them straight on. 

 

_rebooting … play dead protocol ended … roll over initiated ...._

 

Angling his body, Phil stood up, covering the view from anyone approaching in the hallway.  

 

 _.. connection established … location transferring … updating … power rerouting …_  

 

The inhibitor disc clicked once, the only sound as the metal plates beneath it shifted and realigned. 

 

_… command function … stealth mode activated … training wheels disengaged …_

 

The words stopped and Bucky turned his gasp into a sneeze as his fist clenched. Eyes wide, he carefully released his fingers, flexing them gently before letting them go limp. Fucking Tony Stark; the arm must have been waiting until we were in normal space and could receive a signal. Soon as we were out of here, I was going to give that man the best damn blow job he’d ever had, even including the last one I’d given him. 

 

My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of boots thumping on the metal flooring; by the time Emil Blonsky came into view, we were all on our feet, Bucky between Phil and me, his arm hidden behind my back. 

 

“Well, well. Looks like the shoe’s on the other foot now, isn’t it?” Blonsky said. “Payback’s a bitch, boys and I can’t wait. I think I’ll start with Phil; they need someone to try the latest version of their serum on. It’s supposed to reverse the aging process on the body; might as well take the old man of the batch. Oh, I should warn you, all the test subjects have died a slow, agonizing death.”  He grinned and the guard blinked at the venom in his words. “I’m going to enjoy watching that.” 

 

“You can’t take him,” I told him. “My cooperation’s contingent on their safety; you hurt him and I stop talking.” 

 

Blonsky sneered. “I don’t give a shit about you and your whorehouse of a planet. Best fighters in the galaxy? I’ve violated their stupid agreement time and again, and they’re none the wiser. Schmidt’s obsessed with fucking negotiations, but we both know you sluts will sell yourselves to the highest bidder. Why do we need your sorry ass?” 

 

“Because men like you who prefer your fist to finesse make messes out of simple situations.”  The woman from the interrogation, Natasha had called her Ophelia, entered the area with three guards behind her. “I thought I smelled your stench, Emil.  Figured you’d be done licking Ross’ boots, especially now he knows you’d been playing him for years, but here you are, tugging on his coattails.” 

 

“Watch that forked tongue, Viper.” Blonsky didn’t even turn her way. “Surprised to see you, considering all the bodies strewn across the galaxy from your failures.” 

 

Eyes narrowed and her lips pressed tight. “You speak of the dead? As if you don’t measure your own success by those you’ve killed?” 

 

“True, you have a long way to go to be a threat to me, but your superiors value secrecy above all else … and news reports blasted through the core aren’t what they want to see.”  

 

Bastard was loving this, needling his adversaries, believing he had the upper hand. His smug grin turned my stomach, but I had no sympathy for Ophelia or Viper or whatever the hell she called herself. They were both psychopaths or sociopaths or one of those on paths just don’t give a damn; that I knew with growing certainty. 

 

Before Ophelia could muster a retort, the lights flickered again, force field greying at the edges. Bucky tensed, metal hand bracing on the small of my back; Phil slid one foot slightly forward and took a breath; I grounded my weight, clenched my core, every sense telling me to be ready. 

 

“What the …” Blonsky put a hand on the guard console as a tremor ran through the ship. Alarms began to blare and a vid screen popped up, a man’s face appearing.  

 

“Emergency protocol 729342. All hands to their stations. We have a critical failure in engine three. Hazard level four, non-essential personnel, shelter in place.” 

 

“Fuck,” Blonsky cursed. “You people are next to useless; all the damn money from Stane and the others and you fly around in this piece of …”

 

The ship lurched then went dark, power shorting out; in the few seconds of blackness, I rushed out, slamming into the seated guard. He went down easy and I had his gun before the emergency lights came on, stark bright flaring from the corners. In those first heartbeats, I got a bead on two of the other guys and dropped them while Phil took on the rest.  Bucky was grappling with Blonsky; he’d got the upper hand and managed to bang Blonsky’s head on the edge of the console. 

 

Ophelia’s weapon was rock steady. “This is useless,” she argued. “There’s nowhere for you to go.” 

 

“We’ll take our chances,” I told her just before Phil brought the butt of his liberated gun on her head and knocked her out. 

 

“Docking bay?”  Bucky asked. “If Ross and this idiot came on board, their ship will be covert. They won’t want the Alliance knowing they’ve gone rogue.” 

 

“Follow me.” Phil took the lead, moving unerringly through the hallways; we paused at corners and ducked into a storage room when people came running our way.

 

“You know where you’re going?” Bucky asked when Phil popped open a crawlspace. 

 

“Ship’s built on a Hammer VN42-798 frame with standard deep space modifications,”  Phil said. He had to bend over onto his hands and knees to fit; his pants tightened across his very fine ass. “This will take us out near the aft bay and keep us out-of-sight.” 

 

Bucky nudged me when I didn’t immediately follow. “Stop drooling and get inside,” he said with a glance over his shoulder. “You can tap that later; we’re pushing our last bit of luck as it is.”

 

“Like you won’t enjoy your view.” I started moving; turned out, the space was pretty roomy, enough to not bang my elbows or have to hang my head. 

 

“Yeah, you just want to be in the middle.” Bucky pinched my thigh; I didn’t kick him but it was near thing. 

 

Creeping along, we paused twice when we heard conversations, sounds carrying from the rooms we passed; the third time, my heart lept into my throat as I recognized the voice. 

 

“... my help then that’s my price. She’s in thick as thieves with Banner and his batch of misfits.”  Anger colored Ross’s words, a sharp edge of frustration. “I want her gone.” 

 

I caught Phil’s ankle, bringing us to a halt. 

 

“That’s the point, Ross.” Natasha’s tone was biting and tense. “They trust me; you, on the other hand, have only succeeded in driving them further away by your aggressive chase.”

 

“You’re full of shit. She’s playing you, just like she plays everyone; she’s on nobody’s side but her own.” 

 

Twisting to my left, I bent low enough to slide closer to the grate and peek through a thin slit. Ross had his back to me and was still in his uniform; Natasha was across the room, leaning against the edge of a table. Someone else was on my left; from my angle, I could only see black pants and shirt, some kind of tac suit. 

 

“And that is exactly why she is valuable; I have enough sycophants and bootlickers already,” the other person replied. “I respect those who play the game well, Thaddeaus; you, on the other hand, blunder around like an elephant in a spaceship, making enemies and trashing everything around you.”

 

“I brought you Stane, got you inside Willinno and Doom and Stark Industries,” Ross objected. “You wouldn’t even have the partial serum if it wasn’t for me.” 

 

The ship shuddered around us; the metal walls expanded then contracted as a gust of air rushed down the shaft. Emergency lights dimmed as another alarm began to sound. 

 

“Sir! Engine three is down, repeat, engine three is down. We’re working on controlling the power backwash but the scrubbers aren’t responding,” someone said over the comms. “If we don’t get it contained, we could hit planet atmosphere …”

 

“Sabotage, I tell you,” Ross thundered. “Someone’s taking this bird down and it’s got to be her.” 

 

“You and your men were the last people on board,” Natasha said. “It’s an interesting plan; undermine the Leader’s credibility by creating a crisis. What do you want to bet he has someone with him who conveniently knows how to fix the problem?”

 

“Of course I do!” Ross stalked over to her; she didn’t flinch. “This thing’s a standard Alliance model; any engineer worth half his salt knows to feed the excess energy into the ignition mechanism to force a restart!”

 

A lurch then the floor under my hands and knees tilted; I slid into Phil who braced us by turning sideways in the shaft. Holding on by my fingertips, I saw Ross reel his arm back, hand in a fist; in a flash, Natasha had him pinned against the wall. 

 

“Control your temper,” she said. “Or I’ll do it for you.” 

 

“Enough of this.” The other person said. “Come, Ross. Let’s discuss your future with the organization. Natalia, check the General’s crew, will you? One can never be too careful.”

 

“Of course, sir.”

 

Ross glared daggers at her, rubbing his wrist once she let him up, but he followed the leader out of the room. 

 

“Jesus, Barton, your breathing is loud.”  She addressed the vent directly. “Get to the docking bay already. Phil, I’ll meet you by the evac locker.” 

 

Another fifteen minutes of crawling and we came to a maintenance tube that took us into a tiny room with spacesuits. Cracking the door, we slipped into the bay where three small transports were docked. Phil nodded to the first one on the left. 

 

“Here.” Natasha appeared from nowhere and tossed me my pack. “Get the hell out of here before someone …” 

 

“Too late.” Ophelia stepped into the bay. “Always knew you were a traitor; now I have proof.” 

 

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Natasha said, “just shut up already.” 

 

Before I could open my bow, Natasha attacked with a graceful spin and kick that landed hard enough to knock Ophelia back three steps. 

 

“I’m going to enjoy this,” Ophelia said. 

 

“Considering your a masochist, I’m sure you will,” Natasha replied. 

 

LIke deadly dancers, they circled each other, Natasha smoothly pressing into the blows, Ophelia roughly punching back. Almost hypnotic, I wanted to stay and watch, but Bucky grabbed my elbow and dragged me along with him. We almost made it to the open ramp before a laser blast hit the transport’s control panel, frying it into melted metal slag. 

 

“Sorry, boys, but the only place you’re going is to the morgue.” Blonsky, again. How the fuck did this guy keep turning up?  Honestly, I was getting really tired of his bullshit. 

 

“Oh fuck off,” I told him. With an economy of motion, I notched an arrow and aimed right between his eyes. “Fire that again and you’ll be a wall decoration.” 

 

“You can try.” Blonsky’s aim didn’t waver. “But I’ll get a shot off first. Say goodbye to your good friend Phil.” 

 

Fear tangled my senses, slowed my breath, narrowed my vision.  His finger squeezed the trigger and I let the arrow fly at the same second. Blonsky dodged, faster than I thought possible and the arrow sank into his shoulder; meanwhile, Bucky raised his metal arm; the piercing bright streak hit his bicep then reflected off, scorching a line in the wall. 

 

“Jesus, why won’t can you three just fucking die already,” Blonsky cursed, his weapon arm hanging useless.

 

“Schmidt wants them alive, you idiot!” Ophelia shouted at him as she dodged a kick from Natasha.  

 

“I’ve had enough.” Blonsky curled his left hand around something … black … small … a box …

 

“He’s one of them.” Phil yanked at my shirt. “Ross’s serum. He’s taken it.” 

 

Blonsky screamed, an other-worldly sound that echoed off the metal struts of the ceiling and bounced down the hall. His veins rose to the surface and turned a sickly green as whatever gamma-irradiated concoction flowed through him.  Muscles grew bigger, his voice shifted lower, became a roar.  

 

With a swing of one large fist, he struck out, smashing into Ophelia and Natasha, flinging them across the bay in opposite directions.  Ophelia hit the wall with a terrifying thud and crumpled lifelessly to the floor. Natasha managed to land in a rolling tumble, collapsing with a cry of pain. 

 

“Nat!” I only dared spare a quick glance at her; Blonsky’s laugh was like a metal grater, ripping bits of flesh off of knuckles. He broke the arrow shaft and tossed it away. 

 

“Now you pay.” 

 

Three arrows in quick succession I sent winging his way; he batted them with a hand, unheeding of the razor-sharp heads that left trails of blood on his cheek and chin.  Phil fired shot after shot until his laser ran out of energy; they did nothing more than mar Blonsky’s skin. He stomped forward and we backed up, but behind us was only the other transports and the force field that gave way to outer space. 

 

“Go.” Bucky stepped in front of me. “Get Natasha and get out of here.” 

 

I made a grab for him, but he stalked away from me and towards Blonsky. “Buck, no. I’ll make a distraction and we’ll get by …” 

 

“It’s okay, Clint. Tell Stevie I finally figured it out; this is what he saved me for.” 

 

“Eat shit, Barnes. No way we’re leaving you!”  I shouted, fully committed to fighting this motherfucker by Bucky’s side. 

 

A crash and a crack and the floor dropped then tilted so fast everyone was on their asses, sliding across the bay and right towards the transports. I flailed until my hand caught hold of some landing gear; Phil managed to change direction right onto the open ramp. Stretching my leg as far as I could, I got close enough for Natasha to wrap around my thigh.  Amid the ship’s tumult, Phil leaned, arm out; my bow was just the right length to help pull us up to him. 

 

Bucky had tumbled all the way to the wall; Blonsky slipped back into the hallway and was digging his fingers into the metal, heaving himself forward with pure brute strength. At almost a 90 degree angle, the ship continued to roll; the wall became the floor and we held on to the edge of the ramp by our fingertips to keep from dropping into the transport’s belly. 

 

Just as Blonsky got his feet under him, the ship’s motion abruptly changed, yawing to the starboard, the whole thing spinning on its axis. The three of us were able to adjust, hold onto each other with grips as tight as we could make them, but the screech of metal and clattering of untethered items couldn’t drown out Blonsky’s yell; he went spinning past us, hitting the force field and passing through, out into the unforgiving cold of space. 

 

“Bucky!” I shouted over the din. His metal fingers were wrapped around a control lever, body dangling in the air, parallel to the floor.

 

“Did you see that?”  Phil asked, his lips right by my ear. “The field is fluctuating. We don’t have much time.” 

 

“Can you hold my waist?” I had my bow looped around one arm and my pack over my shoulder. “I’ve got an idea.” 

 

For a few heart-stopping seconds, we shuffled until Phil had his weight on me, pressing me into the ramp and I could hang off the edge to attach the right arrowhead, draw back, and fire.  The thin grappling line went flying, sinking into a crack near the lever.  

 

“Hold on!” I mimed what I wanted him to do; Bucky looked at me like I was crazy, but he gripped the arrow with his flesh hand then let go with the other, wrapping the line around his metal fingers. Then I hit the retraction button and prayed to any higher power that was listening that this would work.  As soon as the line broke away from the shaft, Bucky fell towards the force field; only the shortening length stopped him, tightening around the vibranium until I thought it would snap, but he made it, catching the ramp near the top, flipping over and into the transport. 

 

He tugged on the line and Phil used it to get inside, hand over hand, hanging on for dear life. Then he and Bucky pulled Natasha and me in last, closing the ramp and powering up the ship.  The internal gravity kicked on and we slumped to the floor.  

 

“Nat?” I slipped my arms around her; she blinked up at me, eyes glassy with pain. “You with us?” 

 

“I’m here. Hurts like hell, but I’m here,” she said. 

 

“Good.”  I looked at the others. “So, anyone know how to fly this thing? Pretty sure we need to get off this death trap before it explodes.” 

 

 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The attempted assault begins when the guards put Clint into his cell; skip forward until you Natasha's name mentioned to read past it. Bucky and Clint and Phil talk about it in the next bit, so if that's an issue, skip to where Clint asks Bucky what's wrong with his arm to be safe. 
> 
> Ophelia Sarkissian, aka Madame Hydra or Viper, is a female villain in the comic books. She was also on AOS.
> 
> Come on, Tony would have backups of backups for the arm. A little Spiderman: Homecoming nods when the arm boots up. Plus it's vibranium so lasers bounce off it, right? 
> 
> Blonsky is the Abomination, one of the Hulk's big foes. 
> 
> Pitch and Yaw are nautical terms to describe how ships roll sideways (yaw) and front to back (pitch).


	30. Inter Chapter 15: Excerpt from: SIX LEGGED HORSES AND GENDER BENDING BRIDES: ÞRYMR’S HALL AND HAMMER

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from: SIX LEGGED HORSES AND GENDER BENDING BRIDES: ÞRYMR’S HALL AND HAMMER  
> By Dr. Brunhilde Valkyrie, Professor of Gender Studies, University of Hnirborg, New Asgard.

Excerpt from: SIX LEGGED HORSES AND GENDER BENDING BRIDES: ÞRYMR’S HALL AND HAMMER 

By Dr. Brunhilde Valkyrie, Professor of Gender Studies, University of Hnirborg, New Asgard. 

  
  


To say that Asgardians are accepting of transgenderism would be too generous an interpretation of their usually lax attitude towards sartorial choices.  While so many of the outward trappings were marked neither male nor female according to cultural rules, it is important to note that Asgardians separated the concept of identification from the physical attributes of the body.  The six variables used to define gender are understood to be neither genetic nor a product of nature, but cultural constructions derived from generations of non-conformity. Unlike the controversial Danuean theory of subversive pansexual performance, made popular nearly 200 years after the Battle of the Line by Dr. Wilfred Manigrew, Asgardian philosopher Snorri Snorlison posited that gender can only be understood as a product of the very structure of language itself.  We cannot, he asserts, subvert sexual mores while participating in the culture that they represent; only through an anthropological lens, best studied years later in the “cool, dim light of distance” ( _Poetic_ , 339.1)  can we begin to tease apart the interconnection of sex, desire, identification, and body ...

 

… suggests that the primacy of genitalia has long been evident in Asgardian literature through the ubiquitous puns about the hall and hammer. The eminent scholar Rudoyf Kepliner has written numerous books on the femininity of the Mead Hall and the masculinity of Mjolnir; his thesis that hammer and hall represent a perfect union of strength and nurturing is exhaustive in its thoroughness. Again and again, he argues, we see this distinction of the womb as hall, vagina as entryway, the walls as hymen and the handle as penis, the hammer as uncircumcised head, the kill strike as ejaculation because of a primary subconscious need for a sexual dichotomy of male and female. It is, he writes, “a biological imperative in Asgardian culture that war and women, hero and hearth, reassert themselves in literary tropes” (“The Penis is My Hammer,” 473.21).  Despite the depths of his research, I argue that Kepliner overlooks the subversive way in which stories like the marriage of Þrymer overlay ancient traditions of gender with interpretations that defy the simple definitions of male and female, penis and vagina, turning the hairy Asgardian prince in his wedding finery into a challenge to the foundational norms we impose upon past times. How else are we to take the prince and his brother, one a shapeshifter the other a blushing bride, except as transformation of desire? …

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


AUTHOR’S NOTE:  If a book about Daneaun gender theory by a Dr. Wilfred Manigrew exists, I am unable to find any trace of it. One of the great frustrations is a one-line mention of some long lost text, a tantalizing hint of missing parts of history. It goes without stating that any scholarship written 200 years later about Danu would more than likely be little more than speculation and outright hearsay; by that point, the myth of the so-called planet of the sluts had become entrenched in even the highest ivory tower of academia. It’s doubtful this Manigrew would have any insight into the truth of their culture.  

 

Kepliner’s books, unfortunately, survive; after a long run as a dominant scholar in Galactic Queer Theory, Kepliner fell out-of-favor with the arrival of the Sexual Deconstructionist School of which Brunhilde Valkyrie was a leading voice. Kepliner’s reductive approach gave way in favor of what Valkyrie calls a “feast of diversity and understanding.”  Her metaphor of sexuality as multi-dimensional space, time and matter ultimately won her the prestigious Namor Institute’s Scholar of the Year Award. 

  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *hysterical laughter* 
> 
> So I might, in my RL job, actually write academic queer theory papers on the MCU and gender. This tickled me to no end as I was working on it because it sounds just like something I'd actually write!
> 
> Brunhilde Valkyrie hehehehehehehehehe. 
> 
> If you've never read the Norse Myth of ÞRYMR and his demand to marry Freya (he stole Mjolnir and demanded that in return), it's a delightful sojourn into crossdressing and some Loki tricks not turned against Thor, but with Thor as his partner-in-crime. :)
> 
> Manigrew and Kepliner are my creations but I've read way too many white male bullshit about gender in my lifetime to not be able to parrot their privileged viewpoints. 
> 
> I did get a sneaky reference into Judith Butler's concept of gender as performance and subversion in there. :)
> 
> If anyone is a galactic pansexual queer theory person, it's Namor. (laughs)


	31. Chapter 15:  Wipe Him and Start Again ... or Not.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha's story is revealed. Tony really does make some amazing things. The Dodger rides to the rescue and Clint hears a familiar voice. Oh, and Asgard makes its appearance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra-long time between this and the last chapter because it's midterms, grading is hell, and I took a weekend off to go to New York City Comic Con. There was a dearth of Clint Barton representation, like almost no Hawkeye. I'm super bummed about that. But I did see some fabulous cosplay, ate Korean BBQ & NY pizza, bought some lovely art, and saw Tom Hiddleston and Charlie Cox perform on Broadway, so there's that. :)

“I’ve got you,” I whispered as Natasha instinctively tried to pull away. Laid across seats in the back of the transport, her skin was pale, flags of red in her cheeks. A line of scarlet blood ran from the corner of her mouth and I hoped it was from biting her lip, not something worse.

 

“Not … broken,” she whispered, words thready and low. “Bruised maybe …”  

 

She clutched my hand tightly, squeezing my fingers. Damn it, we needed a scanner to check for internal bleeding right fucking now. With the evacuation of the bigger ship, the transports taking off right and left, Phil was at the controls trying to, I don’t know, fly casual or something so it looked like we were part of the exodus at least until we got far enough away to do something … certainly not get sucked into the atmosphere of the local friendly gas giant. Looked pretty, all blue and green swirls, but filled with deadly acidic clouds from what the vid screen told us. As soon as someone figured out who we were, we would be an easy target. 

 

“Nothing in here, damn it, but bandages, instant close, and some antibacterial gel. Who outfits a medium-range like this?” Bucky grumbled. 

 

“It’s an Alliance hire,” Phil said, angling us away from the others, letting us drift closing towards the umbra of planetary gravity. “Ross or Blonsky’s probably; the brass uses these for personal trips to save the taxpayers money since they’re supposed to reimburse the costs.”

 

“Still sucks.”  Bucky started opening more of the different sized doors; he found life preservers, oxygen rebreathers, and an insta-warm blanket that he shook out and covered Natasha’s legs with. “No evac suits, not even a … oh, hello. Here we go. Pay dirt.” 

 

He’d found a handheld med corder and a small suitcase with more supplies including some medications for pain.  Running the corder, he went from Natasha’s toes up to her head, circling around her stomach and chest, slowing scanning her arm.  

 

“Open oblique fracture of the radius … two cracked ribs … they’re not splintered or broken so that’s good … what’s going to be some spectacular and painful bruising along the left hip and thigh … you’re going to be fine,” Bucky said as he loaded up an injector and pressed it against her arm.

 

“Bullshit,” Natasha mumbled. “Tell the truth, Barnes.” 

 

Bucky gave me a look; it was bad. “Your liver and spleen are swelling, could be bruising, might be internal bleeding. We need a full medbay and a real doctor to tell for sure. Best we can do is keep things from moving around in the short term. Going to hurt like hell.” 

 

“What’s new?” She tried to smirk but pain creased the edge of her lips. “Do it.”   

 

I helped as he got out a vacu-splint and we eased Natasha’s arm into place, locking it in. She clenched her teeth and bit back a groan as the movement jostled her. The rest meant sitting her upright so we could loop the compression fabric around her midsection; halfway there, her eyes rolled back and she fainted, a blessing of sorts. No telling if we were doing more damage trying to help her. Once it was in place, Bucky tapped the edge and it drew in tight. 

 

“Buckle her in,” Phil said, glancing back over his shoulder. “Got a feeling we’re going to have to move fast when we get the chance. They sent the fallback coordinates; everyone’s heading out.” 

 

“Can we jump to hyperspace?”  Moments like this made me want to learn how to fly more than planetary skiffs and small rovers. If we survived, I was going to ask Sam to teach me.

 

“This thing is limited in range,” Phil shook his head. “There’s nothing around here but the asteroid they’re heading towards. If we go another direction …” 

 

“Shuttle 47739, confirm manifest. How many are on board and who’s in command?” came over the speakers. “Identify and count off.” 

 

Yeah, we were screwed. It would be nice to have Tony’s cloaking device right about now. Nothing to do but brazen it out. I touched the transmit button, dropped my voice into a bass register and added some roughness around the edges. 

 

“This is shuttle 47739, Emil Blonsky here. There’s seven of us; we evacuated from the  …” 

 

“... port aft bay …” Phil whispered

 

“... port aft bay,” I said and prayed that the distortion on the line would do the job of disguising my voice. 

 

“Received, Lt. Blonsky.  Is Madame Viper with you? Her last location was clocked as being in your vicinity.” 

 

“Confirm that, but she’s wounded. Took a bad spin when the gravity went off. Unconscious but breathing,” I replied. 

 

“We’ll have medical at the fallback; we’ll give you priority landing. Do you need an escort? ”  

 

“Negative.”  I needed a lie and needed it fast. 

 

“Aft thrusters damaged.” Bucky offered. “Easy to fix but takes time.”

 

“Our aft thrusters sustained damage before liftoff. Got two men working on it; won’t take long.” 

 

“Understood,” came the reply. “ETA?” 

 

“No more than thirty solar minutes.” I repeated the number Phil mouthed my way. 

 

“Logged and noted.” 

 

The line went dead and I exhaled. “I can’t believe they bought that.” 

 

“Damn aft thrusters are notorious for blowing out with the least bit of g-force. Happened all the time on the ships during the war; we all learned how to fix ‘em,”  Bucky explained. “Figured it was the same for the Alliance.” 

 

“You are a fucking blessing, you know that?” I caught his face and gave him a big lip-smacking kiss. 

 

“Don’t celebrate just yet,” Phil said. “We still have to figure out where to go and get out of here without …” 

 

“Hello, my freaky darlings!”  Tony’s voice echoed in the space. “Testing, testing. Tell me you’re hearing this.”  

 

I spun around, the source not coming from the console. “Tony? What the fuck?” 

 

“Clint, baby, sweetums!  I’m broadcasting on Barnes Arm Radio. Didn’t want to give the game away ‘til you were off the prison barge. We’re ten clicks out and closing, coming in cloaked.”

 

“Fuck you, Stark, did you put a freaking locator in my arm?” Bucky asked. 

 

“Tracking, sensors, communication … that beauty can do everything but make a cheeseburger.” Tony sounded inordinately pleased with himself. Personally, I couldn’t blame him since his design was about to save our skins. “That P.O.S. you’re in have docking capabilities? Swing by and we’ll pick you up.” 

 

A vid popped up with coordinates; Phil entered them and changed our direction. 

 

“Natasha’s hurt,” I said. “Tell Bruce it’s bad.” 

 

“Did Barnes run a scan? Brucie Bear can grab the data and get ready,” Tony replied. 

 

“Scan? What?” Bucky looked confused. 

 

“Touch the star, put it in medical mode. Fingers are high-imaging four spectrum inputs -- touch and skim or just wave. Need a connection to send, but diagnostic basics are included in the core memory.” 

 

“Jesus, that would have been nice to know a few minutes ago.”  Bucky followed the directions, selecting the option from a lengthy menu.  “Laser cutter? Kill mode? Atmosphere detection? What the fuck.” 

 

“Just the tip, buttercup. So much more to show you. If we ever get a moment to breathe … and I mean that literally since Baby’s life support system is moody as hell … I’ll teach you everything. Just come home; Captain Tight Pants has been all forlorn and Parabirdie Boy didn’t even get to kiss you yet,” Tony said before cutting out. 

 

The transport had a ship-to-ship airlock for boarding vessels; with Sam at the controls of the Dodger, we only had to hold in place and he lined us up easily.  Bruce was the first across, a floating gurney for Natasha; Tony insisted on downloading the transport’s data cache before we cut it loose, setting the autopilot on a course straight into the gas giant’s path. 

 

We went straight to medbay; soon as we were there, Bruce lowered the scan bridge and got started.  Meanwhile, Steve grabbed Bucky and wrapped him in a big hug. 

 

“I thought we had this figured out,” Steve said. “No more getting captured.” 

 

“What part of get the hell out of there did you not understand, you big lug?“ Bucky asked. “You were supposed to go to Danu, get Bruce to safety, not come after us.” 

 

“It’s taken care of. We contacted Captain Danvers, told her what happened,” Steve assured us. “Something about an alternative site and insurance …” 

 

“Insurity privilege. She must suspect there’s someone on the inside. That’s the highest level of clearance they have.”  I felt a wave of relief; Carol was covering our asses on her end. “She’ll take Bruce out-of-the-system, run the whole thing by hand, just her and Jess and someone from the bureau, probably Maria. No one else will know.” 

 

“That’s nice and all, but still,” Bucky glowered at Steve, “you flew right into their path instead of getting the hell out of Dodge.” Bucky held up a mental finger when Tony started to speak. “Cloak or no cloak, it was a risk. They could have gotten their hands on Bruce and none of the rest would matter.” 

 

“Told you once, Buck. I’m never leaving you again.” Steve didn’t back down, hands on his hips. “Don’t give me that crap about not being worth it, either. You’re full of shit if you think I’m going to start buying it now.” 

 

“Besides,” Sam stepped between them, “we all agreed; it was a unanimous decision to save your ungrateful ass.”

 

“Yeah, okay.”  Bucky backed up a step, folding in the face of Sam’s anger. “I’m mean, I’m thankful, don’t get me wrong …” 

 

“Hard to take it any other way than a fuck you,” Sam shot back.  “People care about you, dip shit; it’s high time you accepted that.” 

 

“Um, I …” Bucky’s cheeks flushed and he dropped his gaze to the floor. “It’s not that, it’s just … I don’t want anyone I … to get hurt I can help it..” 

 

“Said the man who was going to take on a suped-up Blonsky all by himself.” I knew I was tossing water on a grease fire, but Bucky kind of deserved to be happy and if that meant showing him how much he meant to us, I’d be first on that bandwagon. 

 

“You did what?” Steve raised an eyebrow and Bucky shot me a sideways glare. 

 

“The fucker had taken some knock-off serum and had one of those little black boxes; he got all muscles with veins and angry growling. Tossed that Viper woman and Natasha around like dolls; no way any of us could stand up to him. I took a play out of your book, so don’t you yell at me, Mr. Go On Without Me.”  Bucky shrugged as if it didn’t matter when it clearly did. “Turned out for the best; he ended up drinking vacuum when the ship tilted.”

 

“Told you it would work!” Tony declared. “Hammer designs have shit for reboot time; one little power bump and the whole thing went haywire.” 

 

“That was you?” Phil asked. “You caused the engine failure? The one that could have killed life support and almost sent us all spinning out of the space dock?”

 

“Yeah, great idea, huh?” Tony bounced on the toes of his feet, pleased with himself. “I mean, sure there was a seven percent chance of catastrophic failure, but only if they did something stupid like initiate a feedback loop to try and restart things faster. Had to get you off the ship somehow; once we got robo-arm back online, we could keep track of where he was … thank God you were all three together … and, as soon as the system updated with the new communication program, I was gonna talk you out of there.  It’s amazing tech … got to pull the bootstraps and retie the hyperspace variables then I can expand it to ….” 

 

“She’s coming to,” Bruce spoke from the doorway. “I don’t want to give her more medication until …” 

 

Natasha cried out; I pushed past Bruce and grabbed a flailing hand, squeezing her smaller fingers as I leaned over the bed. 

 

“Hey, it’s Clint. You’re safe,” I told her. Her eyes flew open, unfocused green filled with confusion, searching the room. 

 

“They’ll find you …” She gasped from the pain of dragging in a breath. “Can’t let them … they want ... “ 

 

“Natasha.” More forceful, demanding her attention. “They don’t have me; we got away.” 

 

“Clint.” She blinked and focused. “The ship, we were on Schmidt’s ship and the guards, they were going to …” 

 

“You stopped them and we escaped. That woman, Viper, tried to stop us, but you fought her,” I reminded her. 

 

“Blonsky. He killed her. Hit me.”  Her memory filtered back in and she shuttered her expression, the glimpse of fear disappearing. “Ow. I hurt.”

 

“That’s probably an understatement.” Bruce came along the other side of the gurney. “Broken arm, cracked ribs, serious internal bruising. Now that you’re awake, I’m going to give you some painkillers so I can regen the bones and start you on an anti-inflammatory treatment. Once the swelling goes down, we’ll be able to see if there’s any permanent damage.” 

 

“Sounds good, Doc.”  Natasha might be smiling, but her fingers trembled in mine. “But do me a favor, would you? Check me for trackers, internal and external; I didn’t eat or drink anything but they have ways to tag a person. Do the same for the others too.” 

 

“Already running a jamming program,” Tony said; everyone had crowded into the small space and circled around. “Once I found the logs with your old signal, I followed them back to the source … that’s how we got a bead on the ship’s location … and created a varying algorithm that mutates any signal going out or coming in. The Dodger’s officially a black hole as far as those assholes are concerned.” 

 

“Old signal?”  Bruce looked askance. “What are you talking about?” 

 

“Ah, oops?” Tony had the good grace to look chagrined. “I thought everyone knew, the whole Gynacon and North Industries thing?” He looked around; obviously none of us knew what he was talking about. I mean, yeah, I knew Natasha was working for the bad guys under some sort of duress but not why. “The Ian McMaster’s trial? Mental conditioning, brain reprogramming, memory jacking?” 

 

“The Dollhouse?” Sam’s eyes widened and he glanced at Natasha. “You’re one of the Red Room Operatives? I thought that was shut down years ago.” 

 

“McMasters never accepted any of the plea bargains; even in prison, he still maintains that his work was important to galactic security,” Phil said. “The program was taken over by  … Oh, God. It was a consortium of companies in concert with the Alliance … Willinno Tech, Hammer, Doom …” 

 

“Stark Industries. Yeah, Obi got a piece of that for sure. He was all excited about the prospects, talked about using it to create a treatment for Post Traumatic Stress. I’ve seen some of the files of what they did, how they took girls no more than toddlers and put them through invasive procedures …”  As Tony talked, Natasha shivered and I saw a cloud cross behind her eyes. He must have seen it too because he stopped. “Right, don’t need the details. Point is, Gynacon ran a number of different divisions, all of them aimed at producing soldiers and spies who followed orders without question, who could be wiped between assignments, create a whole new personality to order.” 

 

“Not personalities.”  Natasha’s voice was low and raspy. “They never got that right; we remembered, eventually. It drove most of my cohort crazy … too many conflicting memories made it impossible to tell what was true and what was made in the lab. But they couldn’t break the basic genetic code; we were human, in the end, with our own thoughts and moral compasses. So they terminated my program, killed the ones who rebelled, sold off the ones who could be assets, and started building DNA code from scratch.” 

 

“North Industries is the leader in cloning research and technology,” Bruce said. “Betty’s worked with a scientist there, Topher Brink; they co-authored a paper on the Y-73 gene and radiation resistance. I can’t believe … are you saying they’re …” 

 

“Two generations so far have been lab-raised, but the success rate is very low, something around 24%.” Natasha winced as Bruce growled in the back of his throat. “They’re kept in a high-security ward; it’s impossible to even land on the planet much less get inside. I know, I’ve tried.” 

 

“Jesus.” Bucky leaned into Sam who slipped an arm around his waist. “And I thought what they did to us was bad. This is … beyond the pale.” 

 

“I’m sorry.” Natasha flinched as she forgot and tried to push up. “I should have told you, not put you at risk. I thought cutting out the tracker would throw them off our trail but Ross and Blonsky told them about the negotiations and they sent teams to all the possible fueling stops …” 

 

“Nat.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t. You saved my life in that bar, have saved me so many times. Those guards, you stopped them from … You don’t have anything to apologize for. You and me, we’re good.” 

 

“But I lied to you, was going to turn you over …” 

 

“You didn’t.” 

 

“Damn it, Clint, you can’t just forgive me. You have no idea what I’ve done, what I am.” 

 

“I can and I don’t need to know. That’s what negotiations are for, remember? Figuring out how we fit together? We sit down and talk it out, once you’re better.” 

 

Sure, realizing she’d been after me at the beginning had thrown me, but it was actions that mattered in the end.  All the times she’d made a choice and stuck by me, all the ways she’d declared which side she was on. She might have a past, but so did I. And so did Steve and Bucky and Bruce and Phil and Sam and Tony.  Where we’d been wasn’t important; it was where we were going together that counted. 

 

“You need rest,” Bruce said when she  coughed then moaned; he pressed the hypo to her arm and injected a dose of medicine. “You’ll feel better if you do.” 

 

“I can’t … I need …” Her eyelids fluttered. “Have to tell you .. Johann Schmidt’s the Leader … his plans … disrupt … trust … chaos …” 

 

“Pretty sure we’ve got most of it figured out,” I told her as her lids slid shut. “Sleep. We’ve got you.” 

 

Took time for her to relax, the medication kicking in and taking the edge off the pain. Creases around her eyes softened, her breathing deepened, eyelashes resting on the creamy skin of her cheeks. She looked younger, more fragile; I didn’t let go of her hand as Bruce worked on her arm, the wan yellow light from the accelerator knitting her bones back together. Then he moved to her ribs; only after he’d started the intravenous drip to decrease the swelling did I let Phil pull me away. 

 

“I’ll stay,” Bruce promised. “She’ll be under for hours; her body needs the time to heal.”

 

The others were in the hall, waiting; I scanned their faces for some hint of what they were feeling.

 

“Don’t even think it, Clint,” Sam said. “No way we’re going to kick her off the ship.”

 

“Seriously, it’s not her fault; if she doesn’t do what they want, they’ll wipe her, start over. Soon as J.A.R.V.I.S. breaks into their files, it’s all going public; those fuckers are done.”  Tony ground his teeth and clenched his fists. “S.I. is cleaning house; time to take back what’s mine and scrub the shit away.” 

 

“She’s crew,” Steve said. “If they want her back, they have to come through us.” 

 

“I’d like to see ‘em try.” Bucky grinned and smacked me on the arm. “But speaking of cleaning, I need a nice long shower; after being cooped up with you two, I’m pretty ripe.” 

 

“Well, I didn’t want to say anything, but …” Sam wrinkled his nose. “You stink, Barnes.” 

 

“Just for that …” Bucky wrapped his metal fingers around Sam’s wrist and tugged him along behind him, “you get to scrub my back.” 

 

Sam sputtered then a grin split his face. “You going to let me wash that mop of hair too?” 

 

“Lather, rinse, repeat,” Bucky tossed over his shoulder. “Chop, Chop, Wilson.” 

 

“Anybody else suddenly have the urge to shower?” Tony waggled his eyebrows in Steve’s direction. “You feeling dirty, Cap?” 

 

“Oh, for crying out loud.”  Steve rolled his eyes. “That’s your idea of seduction?” 

 

“You want romance? I’ve got some rigging lights and a bottle of pinot in my cabin. We can pop the cork, take a swallow, compare hang times …” Tony held out a hand. “How can you refuse an offer like that?” 

They were still bickering as they headed down the hallway towards the engine room. Me, well, I didn’t want banter or to talk about it; what I needed was Phil to touch me and wipe away the lingering memories. 

 

“Is this what you want?” Phil asked as I led him to my room and started taking off his shirt. 

 

“It is.”  The simple answer is always the best. 

 

I took him into the shower; he paused in the doorway, towel in his hand. 

 

“There’s not enough space.” He looked at the stall. 

 

“I like it tight.” I turned on the water.  “You fit.”

 

I stepped in and left room for him behind me. 

 

“Clint.” Still he paused. “Are you sure? I mean, after …” 

 

“I love being taken from behind, held down, pressed into the wall, fucked nice and hard,” I told him. “They can’t have that, they can’t change how I feel. I want this, here, now. With you, more than anything” 

 

For one moment, as Phil squeezed in, my heart spiked and the walls closed in. Phil stilled, gave me the chance to breathe; his steady presence helped me calm my racing pulse. Trust, that’s what it came down to; I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, the same way I knew Natasha had a good heart. Reaching back, I caught his hands and put them on my hips then leaned forward and rested my folded arms on the shower wall. 

 

“Please.” 

 

Phil’s lips brushed my neck, his fingers lightly stroking the curve of my hip bones.  I raised my head, let the water pour over my face, and gave myself over to his care. Opened my body, my heart, so he could chase out doubts, make me forget the hate. Each touch, each careful kiss, the protective curl of his body, the murmured words against my skin were healing salve to my soul. I rolled my hips in encouragement, turned my head so our lips could meet, so I could drink him in and pour his breath into my chest. And when he filled me, pushed me higher than I could ever go alone, I floated free from the worry and what if and might have been; he took all of me and I let him have every bit. We made it work, the small stall our safe place, recycled water washing the dregs off our consciousness. Even when we exited, we toweled each other dry, warmed goosebump covered skin with kisses. 

 

After I dressed, I checked on Natasha; Bruce had made a chair with some of the empty parts crates and pillows from the common area. He assured me she would sleep for a while, so I went back to the cabin, curled up in Phil’s arms, tucked my cold feet under the blanket, and went to sleep. 

 

And I didn’t dream.

 

* * *

 

 

“I don’t like this place.”  Bucky glared out the viewport at the busy city below. “Who the hell has a secret meeting in one of the largest intergalactic cities, much less the seat of the royal throne of Asgard?” 

 

“Sometimes it’s easiest to hide in a crowd?” Sam suggested, maneuvering the ship into connection with the tow lane. “There’s a lot of traffic, so we’re just one among thousands.” 

 

“Asgard is an amicus colony,” I explained. “We’ve had a binding pact of mutual benefit for years; the Adjudicators have taken depositions here before, so there’s a precedent.” 

 

“Well, I for one am damn happy about this.”  Tony nudged Steve and grinned. “The saunas here are to die for. Hot wet heat big enough for all of us.” 

 

“Don’t think we’ll have time for that kind of stuff,” Steve told him. 

 

“Franklin Wrecker One, this is New Tonsberg port authority; you are cleared for touch down. Arrival estimated in fifteen Asgardian minutes. Please respond.”  

 

“We’re powered down and in the pike,” Sam told them.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Garthwaite,” the voice replied. “And welcome to our city.” 

 

Carol’s instructions had been specific; we’d arrived at the Asgardian colony and been not only expected but expedited to the front of the line once we’d give the pre-arranged name. We passed the port and were moving through the city, above the outskirts and right towards the mountain that dominated the center. 

 

“Is that the palace?”  Bruce leaned past Sam to get a better look. “Supposed to be gold-plated walls and large diamond fountain in the courtyard.” 

 

“14 carats,” Tony said. “The rooms are giant-sized, bed big enough for a serious orgy. Plus, the food’s amazing … be careful if anyone offers you golden mead though. That shit packs a real punch.” 

 

“Been here before, have you?” Bucky asked. “Why does that not surprise me.”

 

“I’ve gotten drunk in some of the best establishments in the galaxy, it’s true. Odin and his brood throw a mean party at the drop of a hat; the last time it was to celebrate Baldur’s poetry anthology winning some prize. Can’t remember a damn word of it and he read for hours.” 

 

“I doubt we’re going to be in the grand hall,” Phil said. “But I’ve heard the well of souls is worth the stairs down to see.” 

 

“Maybe I’ll take in some sights after the others take off,” I told him.

 

“We’ll be tourists together,” Phil promised. 

 

“Um, guys, we’re heading over the palace wall.” Sam looked at the track on his screen. “And I think that’s one of the private landing pads.”  

 

We settled with a slight bump then opened the ramp, most of us walking out to meet the tall woman waiting to greet us.  Long brown hair, muscles to die for, and real armor, not the fancy kind with inlays and engraving, but weathered and well-used.  

 

“Welcome. I am Lady Sif and I am to guide you.” She scanned our group. “There was to be seven, as I understood; there is no need to hang back.  Your ship will be safe; none dare enter the royal mews without permission and, even then, we protect our own.”  

 

“That may be true, but last time I left the ship, didn’t end so well for me.” Bucky was clearly unimpressed by Sif’s regal manner. 

 

“Ah, yes, Carol told me of your short-lived captivity; rest assured, nothing will happen to you whilst you are under the protection of the royal family of Asgard. Our promise given is never broken,” she said. “Our guards are as formidable as Daneauns and will stand watch over your ship and your persons.  These curs who seek to cause chaos will not find a foothold here.” 

 

“I think she just said she’d kick Ross’ ass if he showed up,” Tony drawled. He stepped from behind Steve and walked to where Sif stood. “Hello, gorgeous. I think we’ve met before at that after-party on Titan a few years ago, the one where the Crown Prince overturned the table. Tony Stark, at your service.” 

 

“Mr. Stark.” Sif ignored Tony’s outstretched hand. “Indeed, I do remember. You hold your liquor almost as well as an Asgardian.” 

 

“I do, don’t I?” Tony preened. “See Steve? Told you I was famous.” 

 

“Captain Rogers.”  Sif nodded Steve’s way. “It’s an honor; I have heard the story of your epic battle at Sedona and the raid at Borneo.  A hero of such standing is always welcome at our table.”  

 

“Ah, okay?”  Steve stumbled over his tongue. “Nice to meet you too?” 

 

“Lieutenant Barnes and Sam Wilson; fellow warriors are always well-met.” Her eyes fell on Phil. “Philip Coulson; I have you to thank for the return of a good and dear friend. Maria Hill sends her regards. Were she on planet, she would be here to greet you herself; she is away on business at the moment.” 

 

“I”m sorry to miss her,” Phil replied. “I haven’t seen Maria in ages.” 

 

“And you must be Clint; Carol described you perfectly.” Sif smiled. “Although I do not see any magnetic around you that would attract trouble more so than any other person.” 

 

“Give me time; you’ll see,” I promised. 

 

Bruce chose that moment to make his entrance, his arm around Natasha’s waist, helping her walk slowly down the ramp.  She’d healed quite a bit in the last day or so but wasn’t completely mobile yet. 

 

“You are wounded?” Sif raised a hand and waved; a small hover cart came out of a building, flying their way. “Please, sit. It is a distance to our destination; we can all ride.” 

 

I helped Natasha onto a seat and took the end for myself as everyone else piled on; Tony slipped into the front passenger side, chatting with Sif about some party he’d attended a year or so ago. With a quick lift and a press of the gear, she had us moving, zipping through the docking platforms, weaving in and out of slower ladened cargo sleds.  I wrapped my hand around the roll bar, planted my foot against the opposite bench and held on as she whipped us around a corner and over a sprawling garage complex; I got a glimpse of some exotic ships … a Mercedes Rover 7804 LX was next to a classic intelPod racer frame and wheelset … then we went through a small opening in a shimmering protection wall and were inside the palace grounds proper.  

 

Manicured lawns, trees abloom with pink blossoms, a fountain complete with a statue of frolicking children around the feet of an armored woman flew by; anti-grav squash courts, a wading pool, and a transport node in a gazebo passed quickly.   We circled an honest-to-God stable with horses in paddocks and a training ring, buzzed a barracks and practice field where an extra-large bearded man held back three guards with one hand and waved at us with the other. Then we passed a flower garden filled with a riot of colors and a greenhouse with small shoots growing in pots. 

 

“I think we just crossed over into the Twilight Zone,” Sam said, words whipping out of his mouth and dancing away in the wind. “This is some fairytale level shit.” 

 

“Unreal is right,” Bucky grumbled. “Money might not buy happiness, but it’s a good sight better than a fifth-floor walkup on Terra Brooklyn.” 

 

“Buck.” Steve raised an eyebrow. “Play nice.” 

 

Couldn’t say I blamed Bucky; I certainly shared his sentiment. Growing up on Danu didn’t mean we had it any better; Mom was on the bottom rung of clan status even before she had kids with an off-worlder. We never had much of our own but relied upon the largess of clan members for food and a roof over our heads. After Mom died, well, let’s just say that the concept of the clan raising orphans was better in theory than practice. Still, I got an education and training and was given opportunities to advance if I worked hard enough. 

 

Another wall and protective barrier then we lifted up, skirting the edge of the building proper, rising to a parking pad, coming to a stop on a balcony where a row of glass doors gave us a glimpse inside. 

 

“Ah, finally!”  The glass parted, a man walked out and the only thing that kept my mouth from falling open was Natasha’s hard nudge. This guy was perfect, body a beautiful symmetry of shoulders to waist to hips. Strong thighs and legs, muscular arms, tanned skin, long blonde hair. A fucking god or a god of fucking, he exuded a sexual pull in his broad smile. “I’d begun to think you’d gotten lost.” 

 

“That’s the Crown Prince,” Phil murmured in my ear. “Thor Odinson.” 

 

I blinked as sunlight glinted off his hair … seriously, he freakin’ sparkled. 

 

“You’re just impatient.” Sif strolled over to where the Paragon of Princeliness was standing, wind catching at his loose tresses, artfully tousling them over his shoulders. “All is well; they have arrived.” 

 

“Indeed!”  Thor opened his arms and engulfed Tony in a hug; Tony shrank back and cut his startled eyes to Steve. “

 

“Hey, hey, okay, that’s um …” Stark stumbled back as Thor let him go. 

 

“It is good to see you again, Friend Stark. Our collaboration on the Johtunheim campaign was so successful that I have been meaning to speak to you about a second phase of the project,” Thor said. “Not now, of course, but later. There is so much more to be done to help repair the devastation left by the orbital shift.” 

 

“Right, yeah, Ice Planet Zero,” Stark replied. I’d bet my money that Tony didn’t have a clue what the Prince was talking about; company the size of S.I. had fingers in so many pies. “Sure. Let’s talk.” 

 

“Excellent.” Thor slapped Tony on the shoulder then looked at the rest of our motley crew. I suddenly realized I was in my second worst pair of pants … I had four, thank you very much, and they were mostly presentable … and a simple black shirt.  None of us were dressed to meet royalty, a mixture of comfortable and more-than-gently-used clothes. “And you must be Banner; I am pleased to make your acquaintance, doctor.” Thor beelined to Bruce and took his hand, shaking it enthusiastically. “When I heard you might have a cure, I offered all our protection and hospitality immediately. We have cases on the isle of Arnøya, the first on the planet; thank the gods it far to the north and easily isolated, but we fear the spread.” 

 

“Plague here? On Asgard?” Bruce lost his reticence when he heard Thor’s words. “How were they infected?” 

 

“Piracy,” Thor explained. “It is an unfortunate fact that some of the more remote places are used as lairs for those who would ply an illegal trade. As fast as we shut them down, another two bases spring up.  Arnøya is difficult to reach over land and lies in the field of the planet’s polar distortion; we only learned of the disease when local fishermen came down with it. I hope you can help.” 

 

“I’ll do what I can,” Bruce promised. “If you have a lab I can use …” 

 

“You’ll have all that and more once we’re on Danu, Doctor.” 

 

I froze, afraid to turn, uncertain of what to do; I knew that voice all too well.    
  


“It’s okay, Clint. No one’s going to spontaneously combust.” 

 

Carol Danvers came around and stopped in front of me. She looked so much like the last time I’d seen her, standing on the departing platform as I’d been frogmarched up the ramp into the ship that would take me off-world. Strong, solid, dependable, that flash of humor in her blue eyes. Everything the same except …

 

“You cut your hair,” was the first thing that tumbled out of my mouth. 

 

“Maria talked me into it, said it was in this year.”  One side of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “Now she wants me to grow it out again.” 

 

I tried to think of a witty comeback but got nothing. “You can’t … I don’t want to cause you trouble.” 

 

“Section 42.3.21.04 paragraph B of the handbook.  ‘Exigency of negotiation, including credible threat of violence and potential loss of life, supersedes any and all exclusionary variables as deemed necessary by the Adjudicator Prime’.” She smacked me lightly on the arm. “This is situational level red; I’d expect you to reappear dragging nothing less than catastrophe behind you, Hawkeye. If you’d read the handbook, you wouldn’t look so damn gobsmacked right now. Come here, idiot.” 

 

Before my brain could even process what she’d said, she had her arms around me, pulling met; she smelled of aster and shula, her favorite shampoo, and, what the hell, I closed my eyes and squeezed her tight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gynacon and North Industries are actual Marvel companies; Ian McMasters is the CEO of Gynacon in Black Widow comics. 
> 
> Yep, that's a couple of Whedon Dollhouse references there including Topher, the scientist from the show. Not one of my favorites, but I do love the concept. 
> 
> Dirk Garthwaite is the leader of The Wrecking Crew, a long-time adversary of Thor and the Avengers. 
> 
> I've always known that the end of the story would take Clint back to Danu and that Carol would appear here in the last few chapters. We're entering the home stretch ... some sexy times on Asgard then it's a headlong rush into the last fight. I hope you're enjoying the ride.


	32. Inter-Chapter #16:  from The History of the Tuatha Dé Danaan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From The History of the Tuatha Dé Danaan

**_AUTHOR’S NOTE:_ ** _A hallmark of Danuean education is an extensive knowledge of sacred texts and other literature. Clint’s logs are filled with quotes and references to so many of the primary teachings of the Danuean faith which drew upon poets and thinkers from the past._ **_The History of the Tuatha Dé Danaan_ ** _is one such collection; the_ _Humaliwo_ _manuscript in the New Tromsko library is the only surviving Danuean example of what scholars now call Transcendent Psalters. It contains over 250 excerpts and complete poems deemed “spiritual anchors” used by senseis to encourage meditation and mindfulness practices.  Although many of the authors are unknown outside their appearance in_ **_The History_ ** _, some have been recovered by scholarly research including the Cavalier Poet, Robert Herrick, now best known for his poem “To Virgins, To Make Much of Time” which saw a resurgence in popularity after the Kree War._

 

_For the most part, I did not include Clint’s reveries in my retelling of his story. Because he was writing after the fact and often for his own edification, he felt no need to maintain a narrative structure, dropping in quotes and going off on tangents. However, the first section of this chapter is built around a log entry that is, perhaps, one of his most mystical and the references are integral to the revelation.  For a large percentage of the scene, I used Clint’s own words, and I deemed it best to give them to the reader in their unvarnished entirety._

 

 _For further understanding, I’m including the specific entries from_ **_The History_ ** _Clint overtly mentions along with two he more covertly alludes to._

  


**“As We Are So Wonderfully Done With Each Other”**

Kenneth Patchen

 

As we are so wonderfully done with each other

We can walk into our separate sleep

on floors of music where the milkwhite cloak of childhood lies

 

oh my love, my golden lark, my soft long doll

Your lips have splashed my dull house with print of flowers

My hands are crooked where they spilled over your dear curving

 

It is good to be weary from that brilliant work

It is being God to feel your breathing under me

 

A waterglass on the bureau fills with morning…..

Don't let anyone in to wake us

 

**“To Anthea Who May Command Him Any Thing”**

Robert Herrick 

 

Bid me to live, and I will live   

  Thy Protestant to be;   

Or bid me love, and I will give   

  A loving heart to thee.   

   

A heart as soft, a heart as kind,

  A heart as sound and free   

As in the whole world thou canst find,   

  That heart I'll give to thee.   

   

Bid that heart stay, and it will stay,   

  To honour thy decree;

Or bid it languish quite away.   

  And 't shall do so for thee.   

   

Bid me to weep, and I will weep   

  While I have eyes to see;   

And having none, yet I will keep

  A heart to weep for thee.   

   

Bid me despair, and I'll despair,   

  Under that cypress tree;   

Or bid me die, and I will dare   

  E'en Death, to die for thee.

   

Thou art my life, my love, my heart,   

  The very eyes of me,   

And hast command of every part,   

  To live and die for thee.

 

**“Love Sonnet XVII”**

Pablo Neruda

Mark Eisner, Translator

 

I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz,   

or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:   

I love you as one loves certain obscure things,   

secretly, between the shadow and the soul.

 

I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries   

the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself,   

and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose   

from the earth lives dimly in my body.

 

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,   

I love you directly without problems or pride:

I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love,

except in this form in which I am not nor are you,   

so close that your hand upon my chest is mine,   

so close that your eyes close with my dreams.

 

**“The Word”**

Aengus of Danu

 

In the beginning … no, not that beginning, the other one

When you were no more than an ill-formed thought

Unrealized potential, a doubtful possibility I ought

To tuck in that drawer of things better left undone

But I was me and you were you and sex was sex … well,

Pleasure was never a problem, not the with the way you kiss 

Open mouth, warm hands, and giving heart, all hit, no miss

The straight shot that came with no warning of the impending fall. 

Is it being no/thing or be/coming all things, this feeling that’s more

Than the distance from one colony to the next, but less

Than the space between the sealed jamb and the closed door

All I know is on my knees, I find strength to confess

In your eyes, I rise beyond, in your arms, I begin to see.

To transcend is to be We. 

 

**The Book of John**

**Chapter 1**

New Intergalactic Revised Version

 

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2 Ze was with God in the beginning. 3Through zem all things were made; without zem, nothing was made that has been made. 4In zem was life, and that life was the light of all mankind.  5The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it … 14The Word became flesh and made zes dwelling among the people. We have seen zes glory ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Patchen, Herrick, and Neruda are all amazing poets. Neruda's love sonnets are some my absolute favorites, so dense and lush I had to use one for this chapter. Herrick is a particular fit for a resurgence after the Kree War since the Cavalier poets wrote in the aftermath of the English Civil War. Each of the poems also fit the characters they're linked to ... Patchen to Bucky & Sam, Herrick to Steve & Tony, and Neruda to Phil & Clint
> 
> I've updated the opening verses of the Book of John from the New Testament with different pronouns; in my future, language is more inclusive. :) John is the mystic of the four gospels and the opening verse has long been one by which I understand my own role as a writer. The Word IS God ...
> 
> The sonnet by Aegnus is my own creation. I decided to use a Petrarchian form rather than Shakespearean for all you literature nerds out there. :)
> 
> And, yep, the Tuatha De Danaan come straight from Celtic mythology and the concept of the Fey/Faeries. Since I named the planet Danu, why wouldn't they call their civilization the "people of Danu"?


	33. Chapter 16: Between the Shadow and the Soul

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our heroes have a beautiful interlude. Clint gains a revelation that centers his soul. Too bad that the shit hits the fan so soon after: someone betrays them ... or maybe not ... and the first skirmish in the final battle begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrestled mightly with where to end this chapter and, in the end, decided to break at the top of the rollercoaster hill, ready for the downward plunge. Forgive me, but it makes sense in the grand scheme of the frantic pace of the end.

“You never cease to amaze me, Barton.” Carol topped off her glass then poured more of the golden liquid in mine. “Here I was worried about you bumming around the galaxy all alone but you’ve gone and made friends for yourself.”

 

I turned my head and surveyed the luxurious surroundings. Pillows scattered about on plush lounges, hidden lights that cast a warm glow over the table ladened with enough food for a small army or a couple of Asgardians. Tony sprawled on a circular divan, swiping little golden grapes from Steve’s plate; Bucky was in a half-sleep, half-stupor, having won the ‘who can eat the most little pink puffs that were probably seafood” contest with Sam. In another corner, Bruce was matching Thor drink-for-drink, surprisingly unaffected by the strong mead while Natasha was deep in conversation with Sif, their heads close together. And then there was Phil, sitting beside us, gently rubbing his fingers on my thigh. We were, all of us, so much more than friends.

 

“Yeah, well, you know me; just damn glad they put up with me and let me tag along or I might be singing for my supper in some backwater dive instead of being feted by royals.” 

 

“We keep you around for your sparkling sense of humor and smart mouth.” Bucky threw a puff my way; I caught it and popped it in my mouth. “That and you always get us the best berths when we land.” 

 

“Nope, it’s his aim,” Sam objected. “Always hits his target or at least that’s what I’ve been told; wouldn’t know from experience because I’m the only person he hasn’t slept with ...”

 

“Excuse me for giving you space to make nice with Barnes,” I tossed back. “I mean, what if my blow jobs are better than his? I’d be ruining you for life.” 

 

“I’ll have you know I’m a champion cock sucker!” Bucky said. “Just because you prefer bottoming doesn’t mean I …” 

 

“My point being,” Sam talked over Bucky, “that I don’t have a field of comparison. Hard to judge without experience.” 

 

“Jesus, Barton, would you please hurry up and fuck Sam so he’ll shut up about it?” Bucky pinched Sam and made him jump.

 

“James Buchanan Barnes, you are such a little shit,” Sam told him. “What do you want him to do, drop his pants right here and go at it?” 

 

“Why not? I wouldn’t mind taking a run at that blonde hunk of captain,” Carol said. “With looks like that, I’m sure he loves to beg.” 

 

“Steve?” Bucky’s eyebrows rose. “I’d say you’re his type but he’s doing the Stark thing right now …” 

 

“The Stark thing?” She looked at me, confused. “Is that a new term for submission?” 

 

“Steve and Tony just started a relationship,” I explained. Yeah, it would have been weird to me too if I’d never left the planet. “Kind of verboten to proposition one part of a couple, trust issues and all.”

 

“Monogamy, I see. I respect the impulse. Too bad, though; bet I could bring him to his knees and then some.” 

 

“Never know until you ask.” I wasn’t sure how Steve felt about it, but Tony, well, he was up for just about anything. “Hey, Tony! Carol wants to peg Steve but doesn’t want to cause any problems between you two. You gonna freak out if she volunteers to break out the strap on?” 

 

Steve almost choked on the grape he was eating; Tony’s eyes widened and he sat up so fast he knocked two pillows off the divan. “Fucking hell, I’d trade my firstborn to watch tall, sexy and badass friend of Clint fuck our blonde Adonis Cap. Assuming I get to participate, of course, ‘cause that’s Steve Rogers fantasy #23: spit roasting Steve with a hot woman.” 

 

“Wait, what?” Steve’s face flamed red. “You have 23 fantasies about me? Already?”

 

“Yeah, baby, I started the list the minute I saw you on that landing platform. I’m up to 57 as of an hour ago.” Tony patted Steve’s leg. “The deposition gave me ideas about good cop, bad good scenarios. Gotta buy some quick release handcuffs.” 

 

“Notice it’s Tony’s fantasies that threw him,” Bucky said. “Not the idea of a beautiful woman fucking him; told you Sharon had a ...” 

 

“Buck.” Steve glared at his friend. “That’s private information.” 

 

Bucky pressed his lips closed but mischief sparkled in his eyes. 

 

“If it helps, Carol’s a peg-n-beg specialist. Multiple orgasms are so worth it.” I didn’t think Steve could blush more; turns out, he could. 

 

“Jesus on a cracker, this conversation is …” Steve grabbed his glass and drained it. “She hasn’t even asked me if I want to yet.” 

 

Carol swung her legs off the settee and rose with a grace born of extensive training and inherent elegance; confidence in each step, she sauntered over to Steve and Tony, hips swaying, lips curving up at the edges. Reaching out, she tangled her fingers in Steve’s hair, slipped them through in an easy caress then tightened at the base of his neck, yanking his head back so he had to stare up at her. 

 

“Steve Rogers, would you allow me to show you pleasure this evening?” 

 

“I … um …” Steve swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing as his eyes began to glaze from just the small gesture of dominance. “I  … Tony?” 

 

“Whatever you want, Cap. I’m totally on board with your choice.” Tony’s hand gripped Steve’s shoulder, offering a solid tether. 

 

“Yeah … Yes … I want …” Steve’s words devolved into a moan as Carol stepped closer, straddling him with her long legs, her breasts even with Steve’s eyes. 

 

“You’re such a good boy, so handsome. We’re going to make sure you get what you deserve, aren’t we?” Her other hand settled on Tony, cupping his cheek. 

 

“So fucking good, babe,” Tony murmured. “Give you everything you want.” 

 

“Ah, okay, maybe we should …” Sam started to rise; Bucky latched onto his arm and held him in place. 

 

“Thought we’d already decided on our portion of the evening’s entertainment.” 

 

Bucky looked askance at me; Phil squeezed my leg and nodded. 

 

“There are supplies in the table drawer,” Thor called; guess the others had been paying attention after all. “Help yourselves.”

 

The fact that Asgardian rooms were fully stocked for orgies surprised me told more about how I’d changed than anything Carol’d said. Might be standard operating procedures on Danu but protection and accessories were usually relegated to shabby neighborhoods and rundown so-called book stores for adults in the rest of the galaxy. I was getting too used to the idea that sex was kept secret; I’d have to change that.

 

“Toss me some of those.” Bucky motioned as I pulled open the drawer. “The cooling version.” 

 

“Ooooh, only the best.” Tony snatched a couple of the small packets and a bottle. 

 

I went with the extra smooth gel skins -- Danu made and impossible to find off-world, or so I thought. “Want something?” I asked Carol. 

 

“I brought my own.” She nodded at her travel bag in the corner. “Always prepared, you know the motto.” 

 

That made me laugh and I was still chuckling when Bucky shoved Sam up, putting him right in my path. 

 

“Um, you sure this is okay?” Sam glanced over at Phil. “With both of you?” 

 

“Don’t worry about me.” Phil sat back, legs falling open, aroused bulge in his pants. “I’m good.” 

 

“Sex is sex,” I said, “it’s fun and all, but he’s the one sharing my bed tonight.”

 

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed, standing up and crowding in close behind Sam, pushing him forward until our chests bumped. “And I’m gonna have you going all octopus arms later, taking up more than your half of the bunk. Might give Spiced Latte a sip on a cold day, but Chocolatino is my drink of choice.”

 

“Good Lord, Barnes is getting romantic, watch out.” Tony swung behind Steve, making him the middle of their threesome. “When he starts declaring his undying love, we should make sure he’s not a life model decoy.” 

 

“Shut the fuck up, Stark.” Bucky slid his hands around Sam’s waist and under his shirt, ruching it up and tugging it over his head. “Walls are thin in the Dodger and you’re a shouter, dude. Your pet names are ridiculous.” 

 

“Is there always this much trash talking during sex?” Carol asked. 

 

“Pretty much all the time.” I busied my hands unbuckling Sam’s belt and opening his trousers; Bucky tried to push them down only to realize we all still had our boots on. Taking them off involved shuffling to the couch, sitting or crouching, untying, tugging … we started laughing halfway through, the absurdity of such a practical act breaking the tension at getting naked. Hey, if you can’t strip down in a roomful of friends without a chuckle or two, where’s the fun in that?

 

“How … where ..” That Sam looked at Bucky for direction didn’t escape me, nor did the way he kept a hand on Bucky’s body. 

 

“Up.” Bucky pushed and I pulled and Sam was between us again, all delicious dark skin and lean muscles, bulkier in the shoulders, narrower through the hips. He was hung and, yeah, my mouth watered at the thought of that bad boy fucking my throat. “So, multiples? You shitting me, Barton?” 

 

“I’ll talk you through it.” I’d already decided what I wanted to do. “Better hope you’re mouth game is up to comparison, Barnes, ‘cause I’m about to suck Sam’s brains right out of his dick.” 

 

“You wish you were that good.” Bucky nuzzled his nose into the curve of Sam’s neck, kissed the soft skin under his ear, then whispered to Sam, “Blow jobs for a week if you say I’m best.” 

 

“Sorry, Clint, gotta stroke my boy’s ego.” Sam wrapped his fingers into Bucky’s long strands of hair, pulling it out of his messy bun, turned his head and returned the kiss full on. 

 

“Oh, I see how it is.” I dropped to my knees, exhaled and gazed up. Two heads, framed by the lamp behind them with a golden glow, profiles fit together like pieces of a puzzle, sharp edges matching. Something flipped in my chest and, for a second, I saw them balanced like yin and yang, brown and white, separate but whole. Awe bubbled up into my throat at the thought I’d played even the least part in their coming together. 

 

A moan drew my attention and I glanced towards the others. Carol was on the floor between Steve’s knees, head tilted up to stare up the lines of Steve’s body; half-slumped against Tony’s chest, Steve moaned again, hands behind his back, neck being plundered by Tony’s mouth. Then Bucky flicked my ear. 

 

“Hey, no wandering off. Not going to win by default because you were distracted,” he said. “Let’s get the show on the road; can’t let Stevie get ahead of us.” 

 

“Ain’t a race,” Sam muttered then gasped as I leaned in a dropped a kiss on his inner thigh so I could watch his cock twitch. 

 

“Exactly. It’s about slow build and then holding off, rising, pausing, then falling. Opening the moment between orgasm and ejaculation, spreading the feeling, riding it as long as you can before you come.” 

 

“Okay, that’s some serious sexy talk, but I don’t think I can …” 

 

I cut Sam off with a light graze of the tip of my tongue over the tip of his cock. “Start slow,” I instructed Bucky. “You feel him start to tense, back off but don’t stop. Sam, you’re gonna squeeze those abs when I tell you, tighten everything up; I’ll help with the pressure points.” 

 

“Come on, punk. Let’s see if you can fly,” Bucky told him. 

 

Delayed gratification isn’t that difficult; some of the earliest lessons of tantric sex are about control, how to recognize your body’s tells and prolonge pleasure. Start with languid brushes of tongue, speed up then slow down, tease and retreat; by the time I parted my lips and took the head of Sam’s cock in my mouth, he was already panting, Bucky’s slick fingers stroking him on the inside. From there, it was a matter of give and take, Bucky pushing in as I withdrew, me sucking hard as Bucky skimmed over Sam’s prostate. He jumped each time, flexing muscles to stay upright; I spread my hands over the trigger points and pressed, short-circuiting the impulse to come. Three times we wound him to the edge then backed off; he was shaking as we started the fourth round, Bucky picking up the pattern quickly and taking charge. Damn, but Bucky was seriously enjoying driving Sam to beg; he promised the filthiest things if Sam could last a few more seconds and Sam would clench up, fighting the urge. 

 

Finally, I wrapped fingers around the base of Sam’s cock, took as much of his length as I could and gave Bucky a nod. With a twist, Bucky hit the spot hard and Sam bucked, crying out as his body responded, electrical impulses dancing through him. Sam’s eyes went unfocused; only Bucky’s metal arm wrapped around his chest kept him upright. His cock jumped, bumped the back of my throat, but stayed hard. 

 

“Holy hell.” Sam let Bucky help him sit down. “That was … “

 

“Not done yet, Flyboy.” Bucky palmed a gel skin and sheathed himself. “Now I get to fuck you to the level.” 

 

“Always have to have the last word,” Sam grumbled; he stretched and rolled over on his stomach. “Assuming you’re up for it; gonna take some work for me to come again.” 

 

Bucky crawled over Sam, fitting their bodies together; in one long stroke, he slid his cock home. “Got all the time in the world, Sweetheart. You and me.” 

 

God, what a picture they made. Lost in themselves, unaware of anything but their bodies and their connection. I knelt, forgotten, words rising unbidden in my head.

 

 _It is being God to feel your breathing under me_. 

 

“So good, Steve, you’re so good.” 

 

Tony’s voice, unlaced and laid bare, drew me in and turned my head. Steve was on his hands and knees, pillows in disarray, Tony at his head, Carol at his feet, breached on both ends, an offering of sculpted muscles and sharp curves. As Carol pulled out, her hands anchors on Steve’s hips, Tony pushed in, his fingers woven in the silk of Steve’s hair. Mouth and ass full, Steve bowed his back and arched his neck, blue eyes focused on Tony’s brown ones. The unflinching adoration … I’d never seen such a look in all my years of meditation and worship. It was erotic and intimate and … and … something else … like Sam and Bucky and … 

 

_Bid me to live, and I will live thy protestant to be_

 

My breathing quickened and I tore my eyes away from the tableau only to land on Bruce, head thrown back, sagging in his chair. Between his legs, Thor was on his knees in supplication, blonde head bobbing up and down. At the table, Sif watched, eyes roving around the room, but it was Natasha’s steady gaze that captured me, held me, grounded me. Understanding, a hint of a smile … she knew I was flailing, that all my confidence was a lie. Sex is sex, I’d said, but this wasn’t sex, none of it. Not Bucky and Sam or Tony and Steve or Bruce or Natasha or me and …

 

“Clint, come here.” 

 

Phil.

 

The band across my chest released and I dragged in a lungful of air.

Felt the cool tile under my curled toes and bent knees.

Followed my heartbeat into my cock that lay flush against my thigh.

Let my thoughts drift away.

Stood.

Walked to where my lover waited.

Climbed into his lap.

Leaned in.

Kissed him once then twice then again and again. 

 

“Phil, I …” 

 

Phil looked into my soul and sensed the change. 

 

“I know.” 

 

I kissed him more until I had to touch skin and then I eased his shirt open, peeled back his pants, slicked up, l sank down until his whole length was inside me. Rocking became riding and my thighs burned as we moved in an ancient rhythm.

 

The feeling …

It began with Phil …

It was with Phil …

It was Phil … 

 

I held off until Phil came and I cradled him against my chest, whispered into his ear sounds that made words that laid emotions bare; after he pulled my face to his, kissed me until my senses overflowed, only then did I gather everyone’s energy inside and tumble over the edge into revelation and release. 

 

My eyes opened and, for the first time, I could see it. 

 

Sated, limbs entangled, Bucky smiled, leaning on one elbow, chuckling at something Sam murmured into his ear. 

Languid, bodies entwined, Steve’s head lay on Tony’s chest, their left hands clasped as Tony waved his right, punctuation to whatever he was saying. 

Bruce, replete and loose, trusting enough to open up to someone new. 

Natasha, amused and relaxed, sipping her drink and keeping guard.  

Phil. 

 

Oh, God. 

 

_This form in which I am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams._

 

Love. 

 

That’s what this feeling was.

 

“Clint, come join us,” Carol called. “We could use a bottom.” 

 

She was wound around Sif, her naked skin against the Sif’s leather vest. 

 

Phil started to let go; I caught his arms and held on. 

 

“Tempting … but there’s a ridiculously big mattress calling me,” I told her. “Phil? Take me to bed?” 

 

He smiled. “Absolutely.” 

 

The drawer had clean up covered and there was a disposal unit; by the time I had my shoes in hand and pants draped over my arm, Bucky and Sam were up and doing the same. 

 

“Shower sounds good.” Bruce got to his feet and blinked sleepy eyes. “All the hot water I want.” 

 

“Steve?” Tony asked. 

 

“I’m good here. Go reciprocate; I know you want to.” Steve waved towards Carol and the others. “Don’t think I can move for a while anyway.” 

 

“Tasha?” I held out a hand. “Sleeping or staying?” 

 

“Bath,” she answered. “A nice long soak would be divine.” 

 

The bed in our room was big enough for four people, but Phil and I still curled up together. I dropped almost immediately into a light doze, surfacing when Natasha crawled in, turning so she faced the door. I slipped an arm around her waist and sank deeper into sleep as calm and content as I’ve ever been. 

 

* * *

 

“You sure you won’t come with?” Carol raised a hand to shade her eyes as she looked out across the palace grounds, watching for the cart to arrive. “Jess made arrangements for you to stay in orbit; there’ll be more questions, clarification of your statement.” 

 

“Nah.” I shook my head. “Already got the secure wave set up from here; run of the guest areas of this place is better than cooped up in a tiny bunk.” 

 

“The bathing facilities are exceptional.” Carol’s eyes lit upon Phil who was standing deep in conversation with Natasha and Bruce on the other side of the platform. “But I don’t think that’s the real reason. What you did last night … the energy you channeled … I’ve never seen anything like it. Sensei’s descriptions of transcendence were nothing like that.” 

 

“A good friend reminded me that there are many ways to enlightenment; Danuean teaching is only one fork in the path,” I answered. “There’s intimacy among family, those you love, and it’s a connection stronger than anything I ever found on my own.” 

 

“Love?” She arched an eyebrow. “Clint Barton using the L word? Hell must be freezing over.” 

 

“Turns out, that’s not a bad thing.” I nudged her shoulder. “Maybe it’s time to admit we need others, that the way to understanding the universe is through those we care about.”

 

“Oh, don’t you start; Jess already nags me enough.” She sighed. “I know, I know, we need to talk about it but between our jobs and all the bullshit happening with …” She drew to quick stop. “Sorry. Forgot I can’t bitch about politics. Suffice it to say the more things change the more they stay the same on that front. And now there’s this Consortium group with operatives planetside …”

 

“That’s exactly why you should deal with it.” I took her hand. “Trust me on this, Carol. It’s not about the right time, it’s about the time you’ve got. Do it before you can’t.” 

 

“Jesus, when you’re the voice of reason, what is the galaxy coming to?” She laughed then gave me a kiss on the cheek and another on the lips. “Fine. I’ll bring it up. And if she shoots me down, I’m going to come back and kick your ass for the bad advice. This case is going to drag on, so I know where to find you.” 

 

“Are you ready to depart?” Sif stepped through the open doors. “The cart is almost here, and the ships are prepared.” 

 

It had been Sif’s idea to deploy multiple decoys on different routes to make it harder for Schmidt and his minions to find us. Well, not us; I was staying on Asgard at the invitation of Thor, and Phil had been adamant in remaining at my side. Natasha had wanted to opt-out too, but Jessica had insisted she needed to be on Danu as the investigation into Gynecon and North Industries got underway, her information extensive and invaluable. Bucky had promised to watch out for her; Carol had already promised everyone would be staying together in the most secure facility, sharing rooms and being close. 

 

“Thank you for your aide,” Carol said. “Asgard’s protection is very welcome. I appreciate you changing your plans and coming with us …”

 

“I beat Thor at arm wrestling to take the envoy position. I do so love your ice wine and those delightful little sugary nut treats; it will be a pleasure to visit your world again,” Sif said. “Thor’s quite put out at losing.” 

 

“I let you win.” Thor joined us. “It is good for your reputation to take on this task.” 

 

“You did no such thing.” Sif punched Thor in the shoulder; he didn’t even sway. 

 

“Oh, look, the cart’s here,” Carol said. “Time to load up.” 

 

I promised myself I wouldn’t get emotional because, yeah, I’m an ugly crier and there’s nothing vaguely sexy about a snotty nose and red-rimmed eyes. Besides, I really hadn’t known these guys all that long in the grand scheme of things, so saying goodbye temporarily shouldn’t be a problem. Oh, who was I fooling? I teared up before I hugged Tony and by the time I got to Natasha I was sniffling. Fucking hell, it was like ripping out a part of myself, but, after Steve promised to comm us daily and Sam said he’d send pictures and Tony whispered he’d built a subspace link into the new bow he’d left in my room, I manned up and watched the cart disappear through the barrier. 

 

“Well, friends, I have duties I must attend.” Thor gestured for us to proceed him inside. “Feel free to ask for anything you need and I shall see you again …” He swiped what looked like an arm bracer and a calendar appeared. “Dinner tomorrow evening? Fandral is returning and he will rue not meeting Captain Danvers; he is a storyteller at heart and loves to hear ones from different cultures.” 

 

“We can do that.” Since we had virtually no plans at all, it was an easy decision. 

 

“Good. ‘Til then.” 

 

He swept out of the room; Phil and I headed to what would be our room for the foreseeable future. 

 

“So, exploration first? See what’s where?” I asked.

 

We’d talked about possibilities while the others had been giving their depositions; now that the basics facts were outlined and officially filed with the Adjudicator’s Office, the process was started and it would be virtually impossible to stop it. Any attempt made to intervene would bring the full weight of the Daneaun forces down upon whoever was foolish enough to try. By now, the bad guys had probably figured out that any information I could give them would be useless;if they bothered to ask their inside person, they’d have known that already, but, obviously, they weren’t detail oriented, not if they let Blonsky be a test subject, or they were pretty clueless if he’d stolen it under their noses. Besides, I was behind layers of protection the palace afforded; it would take an army and then some to get through the defenses ...

 

Something hard hit my chest; I stumbled back as a blue light raced along my skin, down my legs and to my fingertips. Bone-chilling cold gripped me and everything went numb then froze; I couldn’t move, trapped in my own body. 

 

“What…?” My lips were heavy, my throat tightening. 

 

“Stop right there.” Phil whipped out his blaster and pointed it at the man approaching us. Tall and lanky, long dark hair that curled up at the ends, pale alabaster skin … he was dressed in green leather and wore the royal seal of the house of Asgard 

 

“You must be the Alliance officer? Imagine finding a good man in their ranks? What are the odds?” 

 

“Who the hell are you and what have you done to Clint?” Phil demanded. 

 

“I am Loki, son of Laufey, Prince of Asgard, and, unfortunately, you are the price demanded.” Loki shrugged. “Nothing personal.” 

 

Green flashed; Phil shouted in pain as the Loki in front of us disappeared. 

 

“Phil!” I couldn’t turn, could only cut my eyes to see Phil sprawled on the floor, unconscious, eyes open and staring at the ceiling. “Motherfucker! If you’ve hurt him …” 

 

“Oh, please.” Loki came from behind me, circling close and grabbing my chin between his long elegant fingers. “He’s merely stunned; it hurts, yes, but they want both of you alive.” 

 

“They? Who … You’re working for them, aren’t you?” I struggled, but couldn’t even twitch my fingers. “You’re betraying your own family?” 

 

“My family is the definition of dysfunctional; I wouldn’t be the first.” Loki yanked my head up. “What I need to know is which ship Thor is on …” 

 

“Ah, Laufyson. At last someone vaguely competent. We’ll take them now.” 

 

I knew the voice but had never seen Johann Schmidt’s face. Bright red puckered splotches covered his cheeks and forehead, scars running down his neck and under his collar. One eye was nothing but an empty socket, the other had milky spiderwebs at the corner. Burns, terrible ones, must have eaten away at his flesh; how he survived damage that extensive was a mystery. 

 

“Defuse the bomb,” Loki insisted. “That was our deal. No Asgardian lives will be lost. You take the ship and the rest of the passengers, but let my people go free.” 

 

“For all your plans within plans, you really are nothing more than a childish mischief-maker.” Schmidt raised his wrist unit, fingers hovering over it. “Anyone who knows of our presence here must be dealt with. There will be no survivors.” 

 

“Danu knows,” I told him. “Special Ops will hunt you down, destroy your organization.” 

 

“For an accident? These things happen, you know. Space travel is fraught with such danger. A hole in the fuel line close to the hyperspace engine and …” he tapped the unit, “an explosion big enough to take out all three ships together, no matter which one they’re on.” 

 

“No!” Loki spun, a plasma staff appearing in his hand. He jabbed the nearest of Schmidt’s men, stunning him. 

 

“Please.” Schmidt tapped again and Loki began to convulse, body going rigid. “You were so pleased by that bottle of whiskey; should have tested it for toxins before you drank a glass.” He stopped the signal and Loki gasped for air. “You can walk away from this a rich and powerful man. What're a few Asgardian casualties when you will shortly be the Crown Prince? Your brother’s already in chains and will be dead momentarily; he walked right into our trap.” 

 

“Thor’s in the palace?” Loki looked stunned. “He was to be on the ship …” 

 

“Sif arm wrestled him for it; she’s the envoy.” I was beginning to understand; Loki had agreed to turn us over to save his brother.” 

 

“Then take these two; they mean nothing to me.” Like a snake sloughing off his skin, Loki stilled, all emotion draining from his face. He moved out of the way, blocking me from Schmidt’s line of sight for a moment. His eyes met mine and warmth flooded into my limbs, paralysis gone. “What do I care for an exiled Danuean hero?” 

 

Breath flowed in; there wasn’t time to panic, not even a second to give to fear. Lives of people I loved hung in the balance. On the exhale, I gathered all of them, the pieces that lived in me … Steve’s courage, Bucky’s tenacity, Sam’s reflexes, Bruce’s strength, Tony’s intelligence, Natasha’s cleverness, Carol’s determination, Phil’s everything … closed my eyes, and launched into action. 

 

Eight guys circled Schmidt; they stood, staring stupidly, as I jumped and rolled to where my pack sat against the wall. Bouncing up, I tossed four darts, hit four targets, and was moving away before the bodies fell, hand closing on my bow. It was too close quarters for the arrows, but with a snap and a tap, I locked it into staff position, ducked under an outstretched arm, and cut the legs out from another. 

 

“Clever, but ultimately useless.” Schmidt held a wicked little blaster pointed at Phil’s head; Loki was shaking, collapsed on the floor. “Stand down or he dies.” 

 

“You’re going to kill us anyway.” If capturing Thor and poisoning Loki didn’t phase him, he’d have no qualms getting rid of us. “No survivors, right?” 

 

“Indeed, but not right away. I still have a need for you; there are other ways but the methods taint the results.” His aim never wavered. “Plus, given your resourcefulness and pragmatic viewpoint, you might be talked into joining us. As soon as the Widow is wiped and reprogrammed, the two of you would make a good team.”

 

“Taint the results.” Yeah, I knew what he meant; people lied after enough torture just to get it to stop. “Wiped and reprogrammed. Someone ought to teach you how to win friends and influence people, dude. You’re terrible at it.” 

 

Schmidt didn’t find me funny; he grimaced, scarred skin pulling. “Fine. This is your last chance, Mr. Barton. Deal with me or …” 

 

Something silver flew through the doorway, slammed into the remaining guards then darted back to Thor’s outstretched hand. It was just the distraction I needed; with two cracks of my staff, I knocked the blaster out of Schmidt’s hand and smashed the link on his arm. Loki groaned and sat up. 

 

“How dare you attempt to harm those under my protection!” Thor’s voice thundered. 

 

Schmidt sighed, far too calm for being caught between Thor’s weapon and my staff. “It’s too late; the assault has already begun.” 

 

Claxons blared and the sound of distance laser fire echoed down the hallway. 

 

“Grab him,” were Loki’s first words, “he has a …” 

 

With a shimmering distortion that encompassed his body, Schmidt disappeared. 

 

“... transport device.” Loki rubbed a hand to his forehead. “Damn it all.”

 

I dropped to my knees and gently turned Phil over to check his pulse; it was steady and strong.  

 

“Brother, what have you done?” Thor demanded. “The men who foolishly tried to take me said you sent them.” 

 

“I was trying to save you, you big idiot!” Loki huffed. “You never listen to my warnings.”

 

“The decoys. We’ve got to stop them before they explode.” I interrupted the family drama; there were innocent Asgardians on those ships. “Schmidt rigged it to look like an accident.” 

 

“Decoys?” Loki glared at me. “They’re not on any of them, are they?”

 

“Classic deflection; learned that from you.” Thor offered Loki his hand and helped him out. “Just like you pretending to work with our enemies. A well-used tactic you’ve often employed.” 

 

Phil moaned and opened his eyes. “Ow, that hurts. Fucker stunned me in the back.” His words were still slightly slurred, but he started moving, stretching his limbs. “What the hell happened? Is everyone safe?” 

 

“I’m just about to check.” I turned my staff over and opened the comm line as I helped him to his feet. “Sam? Can you hear me? You guys okay?”

 

“Missing me already, Barton? Thought you had all that Asgardian ass to …” Tony’s voice cut out and Steve took over. 

 

“We’re in hyperspace, safe and sound. What happened?” 

 

“Just a little snafu, nothing to worry about.” I lied because, yeah, if Steve thought we were in trouble he’d turn the Dodger around and come back for us. “Just wanted to make sure you were on course.” 

 

“All good on this end,” Steve replied then we signed off. 

 

“Their ship wasn’t going to be retrofitted.” Loki chuckled. “They slipped out right under Schmidt’s nose. Sif’s planning, I imagine; she’s quite clever …”

 

Three guards barged in. “Your majesties, the palace is under attack and Lady Hela is leading the force.” 

 

“And this is where I say I told you so,” Loki said to Thor. “Our sister is a megalomaniac, wants to take the throne, and is using outside help to do so.” 

 

A loud explosion rocked the room, close enough that acidic smelling smoke wafted through a blown open section of the wall. Armed people poured through, lasers at the ready; I grabbed my staff and took a defensive position, Phil right beside me. Thor flanked us on my left, Loki on the right, the other guards arrayed behind us. 

 

Then the fight began in earnest. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That opening sex scene ... yeah, I've had it in my head for a long time, just kept plugging away to get to it. I hope I've done my muse justice; bringing Clint from Danuean understanding of sex and relationships into a deeper knowledge of what love can be was always one of my goals. To have so many sexualities represented ... hetero, bi, homo, pan, ace plus variations on dominance and submission ... well, it was damn challenging especially when I mixed in tantric sex teachings and a transcendent revelation about big L Love. 
> 
> Ha, Loki, am I right? Bait and switch, baby, bait and switch. Hela is more fun as the Asgardian member of the consortium (aka HYDRA, AIM, and all the big bads rolled into one); If anyone is omnisexual, it's a sexy "care about my family but completely chaotic neutral" Loki. 
> 
> Yeah, I know they probably don't have chocolatinos and lattes this far in the future. I very early on quit trying to create new words for new things and just had them talk in today's language. Hurrah for fan fiction where I can go, "yep, anachronism, have a sexy scene instead." 
> 
> The fight has really begun in earnest. From here on out, it's a race against time to stop Schmidt from getting what he wants ... and his appearance in this chapter is a hint of both what he's after and why he's so hell-bent on destruction ... *laughs as I think about all the seeds I've sown in this story finally coming to fruition*


	34. Inter-Chapter #18: BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF GALACTIC PRESIDENT WILHELM ALFRED MARTIN SCHMIDT  (03.2820.030 - 04.2898.012)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the New Galactic Imperium of Knowledge Database, 2nd Edition. Stanlee Publishing, Kirby City: 3094.
> 
> BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF GALACTIC PRESIDENT WILHELM ALFRED MARTIN SCHMIDT  
> (03.2820.030 - 04.2898.012)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahahahaha ... Real Life is insane, but it's November and, damn it, all those "get it done now" shrieks from work and RL can suck it. I'm going to write for an hour every day even if that means the shit they want gets put firmly at the bottom of my to-do list. So expect faster updates as this story hurtles towards its conclusion.

From the  _ New Galactic Imperium of Knowledge Database, 2nd Edition.  _ Stanlee Publishing, Kirby City: 3094.

 

BRIEF BIOGRAPHY OF GALACTIC PRESIDENT WILHELM ALFRED MARTIN SCHMIDT 

(03.2820.030 - 04.2898.012)

 

Born on Almathea to an alcoholic father who was chronically unemployed and a mother who worked housekeeping jobs for the rich families on Callisto, Schmidt was a sickly child, the youngest of three siblings  When his oldest brother Manfred enlisted to fight for the Alliance, Schmidt became fascinated by military history, reading everything from ancient Original Prime texts like Sun Tzu’s  _ Art of War _ , the biography of Richardo Prachet Macquire, and writings of the Pure Earth theologian Jordan Peterson as he worked his way through college and law school with a string of menial jobs including dockman apprentice and street cleaner.  After Manfred’s death in a training accident, Schmidt began his career in politics, running and winning a seat on the colony council.  

 

Making a name for himself during the Worker’s Union Strikes of 2848 and 49, Schmidt rose to prominence in the inner solar system as a champion of the little man.  PIggybacking on the Rising Tide Movement in 2852, Schmidt was elected Galactic Congressional Representative of Jupiter’s moons. During his time in Congress, he co-sponsored both the MIlitary Overhaul and Redundancy Bill (M.O.R.B.) as well as the Colonial Deregulation of Federal Authority Act (D.C.F.A.).  After the passing of Senator Matt Mason in 2861, Schmidt was appointed to fill his seat; he won re-election nine months later and moved to the Senate where he chaired the Defense committee and was instrumental in the expansion of Alliance building programs that funded projects on numerous colonies.

 

In 2870, Schmidt came under scrutiny for his ties to supremacist groups including the Federation of Galatic Colony Reform (F.G.C.R.) and the Galactic Family Association (G.F.A.).  The  _ New Callisto Magazine _ ran a series of exposes on Schmidt’s sister, Dorcas, who, along with her husband, Baron Strucker, found the Neudeutsch Aryan Enclave on Mars.  Schmidt condemned his sister’s beliefs and introduced legislation to strip designated hate groups of tax-exempt status.  

 

During the years prior to his election as President in 2875, Schmidt oversaw a 72% rise in the defense budget. As part of yearly appropriation hearings, he awarded millions in contracts to major corporations, earning him the nickname “Red Ledger” for his free-spending ideology. His close relationships with CEOs and owners of those companies also drew ire from some quarters; proponents of the Danuean principle of negotiation decried what they called Schmidt’s “willingness to overlook excesses for his favorites.”  

 

The election of ‘75 was contentious; with signs of unrest building in the outer rim, Schmidt’s slogan of “Vote like the whole galaxy depends upon it!” resonated with worries about colonial resettlement and the increasing wealth gap. Within two months of a narrow win in the electoral college, Schmidt faced the first freedom protests; seven weeks later, the Bluecoat Rebellion began with rioting on Panhiem. Schmidt’s response was swift and decisive; in the next two years, he ordered over two million troops deployed across the colonies.  Despite early losses, the military might of the Alliance forces overwhelmed the Bluecoats; the Battle of Sedon on New Belgrave on  09.2878.017 ended the rebellion.  

 

But it is the  Khodaumoi Massacre on 14.2877.022 and Schmidt’s  now infamous “Court of History” speech given on  09.2878.019 that have shaped his legacy.  Despite Schmidt’s sworn statement that he did not authorize the order for the massacre nor that he approved the extreme measures taken at Sedon, public opinion swiftly turned against him. Revelations of the terrible conditions of the Alliance prisons and the experimentation that happened there during the armistice negotiations served to undermine faith in his leadership even further.  On 01.2879.04, Schmidt announced he would not run for a second term in office; he retired to his home on Callisto. 

 

In his waning years, Schmidt served on the boards of a number of the Fortune Galactic 500 companies including Willinno Tech, Hammer Corporation, and Stark Industries and writing his memoirs which were published forty-two years after his death on  04.2898.012.  Of his life, Schmidt said he still believed the best path was to not rely on the chance the enemy won’t attack but to be ready to receive them.  “Anyone can deal with victory,” he wrote, “but only the strong can bear defeat.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ton of references to both the current political climate in the U.S. and the past as well in here. And, yes, that's an Agents of SHIELD nod as well as one to a popular toy in the 1950s .... ;)
> 
> The F.G.C.R. and G.F.A. harken to two groups continually on the Southern Poverty Center's Hate group list. 
> 
> There really are congressmen and senators who line their pockets with defense contract monies, party with the CEOS and oversee who gets what from the government coffers. 
> 
> Those last two quotes, the ones from his memoir, are from famous figures. 
> 
> "The art of war teaches us to rely not on the likelihood of the enemy's not coming, but on our own readiness to receive him; not on the chance of his not attacking, but rather on the fact that we have made our position unassailable." Sun Tzu
> 
> "Anyone can deal with victory. Only the mighty can bear defeat." Adolf Hitler
> 
> Always a scary thing when I think of how history sanitizes even the worst atrocities, makes victims little more than footnotes in the life story of the powerful ...


	35. Chapter 18:  Batter My Heart, Three Personed God

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint can't figure it out. Somehow he's managed to collect friends and lovers and people who care about him at the same time someone else is trying their damnedness to kill him. They're narrowing in on who this Johann Schmidt, aka Red Skull, really is and that's a good thing, right? Assuming they survive to share the information, of course. 
> 
> I've always known where this story was heading from the very beginning ... and now we're almost there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> RL has been kicking my ass and I'm done with it. For NANOWRIMO, I'm going to commit to one hour of writing a day no matter if I have to put work stuff on the back burner. They can kiss my pasty white big ass. My boys need my attention and my muse can be pretty damn scary when I don't do what she wants, so expect faster updates from now on.
> 
> Writing space battles is HARD. Just saying.

The throb of the engine vibrated under my feet, the metal decking warm to the touch. I spun the captain’s chair in a slow arc, to the left then the right, soothing motion lulling my battered senses. 

 

_“On your right!” Phil yanked me by the elbow, dragging me out of the path of the spear’s thrust. A laser blast fell the Svartálfar warrior before I could react, the strange mask with staring circular holes slipping as he hit the ground, pale cheek revealed underneath. “There’s too many; we have to fall back.”_

 

_“Aye,” Thor agreed, stepping in front of us and swinging his hammer; lightning-like energy crackled, connecting with armor pieces and other metal, jolting those who wore it. “Come, I know a good vantage point for your bow.”_

 

The panel lights flickered, dimmed in night mode as we cut through the blackness of space. Only the auto-flight map glowed bright enough to see clearly, our progress towards our destination marked by a simple green dot. 

 

_“She has Muspelheim fighters too,” Loki cursed as we fell back down the hallway. Our numbers were dwindling, and we were cut off from the rest of the Asgardian forces.  “I seem to remember warning father that Hela was busy making alliances …”_

 

_“Yes, yes, you told us so.” Thor grimaced at his brother. “You’d rather gloat than fight, it seems.”_

 

_“It’s such a rare occurrence, you admitting you were wrong.”  Loki grinned, tossing two of his seemingly unending supply of daggers at the tall, sallow men who appeared in a doorway. “Laufey, Surtur, and Malekith, our sister has been busy.”_

 

I let out a breath and unclenched my fingers; the memory of the dead lingered, bloody bodies and unseeing eyes.  For all my training and even the fights I’d been in before, nothing had prepared me for an all-out war, and that’s exactly what Phil and I had found ourselves, caught in the middle of a battle for the throne of Asgard. 

 

_“Give me your hand.” Thor reached out and took my wrist, pressing my palm to the panel on the docking bay wall. My fingers left behind smears of blood as I pulled it back; I shifted, Phil’s weight leaning against my side. “The ship will respond to you now; when the port authority asks for clearance, tell them Ragnarok. They’ll give you priority access.”_

 

_“We can help  …” A laser blast scored the wall, perilously close to Thor’s head._

 

_“I gave Captain Danvers my word that we would protect you; you are no longer safe here. Hogun will give you sanctuary …” Thor pushed me onto the ramp of the sleek silver and red ship as the fight poured around the corner, combatants spreading out into the open space. “This is my home, my people. If my sister prevails, she will reign horrors upon the innocent; I will give no quarter.”_

 

_“Go.” Loki flipped his staff and strode forward, making himself an easy target. I’d seen both he and his brother do it, again and again, be at the front of the charge. “Get word to the Adjudicators that Hela has broken the truce; let them know that the Red Skull wants to spread his chaos further.”_

 

_“Red Skull?” Phil lifted his head. “Do you …”_

 

_I ducked, dragged Phil onto the ship as another volley strafed the dock. Behind us, Thor closed the ramp; the engine purred to life, lights coming on as we made our way through the ship._

 

The smell of coffee wafted from the cabin; Phil passed me a mug as he sat down.  The brew was dark and slightly bitter, tempered by a touch of sugar. That it was real didn’t surprise me; the ship was a Contrail, a pleasure craft model, complete with a voice-activated automatic pilot and a super soft, fold-out bed big enough for the royalty who could afford all the bells and whistles. Hell, the thing pretty much flew itself. 

 

“You get any sleep?” Phil asked, sipping from his own cup. 

 

I shook my head; I’d been far too keyed up. Even awake, I could still see the spatter and smell the singe of laser burns in my nostrils. After patching up Phil’s leg … damn shot had taken a chunk out of his calf and thank the Gods he’d pivoted or it would have done a lot more damage … and sealing the scoring on my side and back, I’d showered (real hot water and expensive smelling soap) to wash the grime, grit, and unknown off me, stole some clothes from the stocked drawers, and pretty much stared out the viewscreen while Phil slept. 

 

“Just can’t help feeling like it’s my fault.” I’d run the whole thing through my brain, filtered it with variables, but ended with the same conclusion every time. “I landed there and brought Schmidt right to them. If I hadn’t …”

 

“The history of Asgard’s monarchy is one coup attempt after another,” Phil told me. “Hela was primed and ready for that attack; it would take years to get Malekith in the same room with Laufey, much less Surtur. The animosity between the nine realms is why the royal family is made up of both the biological children of Odin and Frigga as well as foster children from different colonies. Hela is from Helheim, Loki from Johtunheim, Baldur from Vanaheim.  An ancient custom; any of the heirs could come to the throne, or so the theory goes.” 

 

“Bet it’s usually one of the biological kids. That’s Thor, right? Funny how that works.”  Who understood the rich and powerful, especially when it had been generations of luxury and nobody questioning them. 

 

“Hela’s was the first heir, but Thor’s Odin’s firstborn son.  It’s complicated which is exactly why it’s not your fault.” 

 

“Yeah, I took logic classes so I know about precipitating causes versus necessary ones. All the necessary variables can be there, but it takes one stone, one last straw, to set it off.” 

 

Phil sighed. “And you’re sure it’s you? If I had to put my money on what set this chain of events off, I’d go with Ross’s pursuit of Bruce’s breakthrough on the plague.  He pushed Bruce and Bruce ran straight into yours and Natasha’s path. Without Ross, your information, while valuable, wouldn’t have been as imperative. You’re a mitigating factor, not a precipitating cause.” 

 

He looked so inordinately pleased, the smug, sexy fucker, plus it was hard to concentrate on his argument when he was wearing a silky grey form-fitting shirt and a pair of sleep pants. The shirt was too big across the chest and arms … probably meant for Thor … and his feet were covered by the length of the pants, but, yum, there’s something about casual clothes on Phil. Just yum. 

 

“Okay, I give. Paid more attention to ethos and pathos than logos to be honest. Always have found it easier to appeal to the heart and play the ‘I’m from Danu’ card anyway. Or combine them for a good fuck session where we both agreed in the morning.”  Flirting always makes me feel better and we had at least a day and a half before we arrived at our destination, plenty of time to defile all the horizontal … and vertical … surfaces on this pleasure craft. 

 

A light blinked on the console; Phil glanced over then opened the line.  

 

“Hey, A.C.! That name you wanted me to track down? You’re never going to believe what we found.” 

 

Before he’d slept, Phil had shot off a message to Skye.

 

“It was the teleportation device that tipped it,” a male voice I’d never heard interrupted. “The tech’s supposed to be in the early experimental stages, nobody’s gotten the pattern recognition to the molecular level which is a primary component if we’re going to be able to disassemble and reassemble whole genetic sequences much less programmed it into a …”

 

“To the point, Fitz,” another new voice, this one female interrupted. “Sorry, Phil, you know how he gets, giddy as a schoolboy over new things.” 

 

“You’re just as excited about the biology of it,” Fitz responded. “We got a two-hour lecture on the mutation of the fourteenth chromosomal pair …” 

 

“Turns out only two companies are even close,” Skye took over. “It either had to be …”

 

“Willinno Tech or North Industries,” Phil supplied. “Maybe both working in unison.” 

 

“I really hate it when you do that.” Skye’s pout was evident in her tone. “Anyway, yes, Mack talked to Tripp who has a friend who ran freight for North Industries; the owner, that crazy guy who got sent to jail for illegal human experimentation …”  


“Ian McMasters.”  This time, Phil winked at me; he clearly enjoyed filling in the blanks. 

 

“Yes, he’s still funding a number of projects including a full staff dedicated to the problem of teleportation,” Fitz jumped back in. “The lab is adjacent to one of the company’s rehabilitation spas on Polynesian Archipelago, the windward side of the colony; really famous people go to different islands to detox and get plastic surgery.”

 

“Jewel supposedly got her nose done at Bora-Bora,” Skye interjected. “But the lab was on …” 

 

“...Moorea.” A shadow crossed Phil’s face; he raised a hand and rubbed his chest. “There’s an ASF facility for advanced reconstructive techniques plus labs.” 

 

“Yes! It’s part of the Tahiti chain of  … oh.” The second woman drew up short. “Phil, I’m so sorry. We were so eager to find the answers …” 

 

“It’s fine, Jemma. Happened a long time ago. Tell me what else you found.” 

 

I leaned over, covered Phil’s hand with my own, flattening our palms on his chest; I could feel the raised edges of his scar through the silky fabric. 

 

“I think I’ve got a lead on your Red Skull’s real name.” Skye picked up the narrative. “Once we knew where he got the device, I dug deep into the files for a patient matching his description …” 

 

“Had to be cyclohexane exposure from your description. Flammable and very toxic under the right conditions,” Fitz added. “Also pretty rare considering it’s hardly used anymore except in the production of nylon-based shielding applications.  Only two companies that use it in any significant quantities … Willinno for their substandard radiation netting and Hammer in their cheap-ass modular colony housing. Would have to be a pretty big fire to do that much damage; only seven reported incidents in the last fifty years which, given your description of this guy, couldn’t be much older than that. Ran through them and, boom, hit pay dirt on the fourth one …” 

 

“Panheim. One of the buildings that burned was a Hammer manufacturing plant; some of the scientists were trapped inside. We couldn’t get to them fast enough through the throngs of rioters.”  Phil’s fingers spasmed under mine. “But I don’t remember a Schmidt being one of them.” 

 

“That’s because Schmidt is his mother’s name; I give you Werner Johann Von Strucker, Astrobiologist and nephew of President Wilhelm Schmidt, our late disgraced glad-he’s-gone galactic leader. Werner was born in Kolberg, the capital of the Neudeutsch on Mars; his father was a white supremacist, poured a shit ton of the family money in creating the perfect Aryan colony. Dude studied at Harvard and Oxford on Original Prime and worked for a litany of big name companies … Hammer, Von Doom, Willinno, even Stark. Anyone who’d give him a grant to keep working on his pet idea which I don’t even want to try and understand because it’ll make the top of my head explode.” 

 

“Radiational gradient and genetic manipulation at the cellular level.  He’s convinced cosmic radiation can unlock what he calls the übergene; his theoretical underpinnings are quite atrocious … psycho-babble about natural selection and peak human efficiency … but there are a number of scientists working in similar areas, looking at how radiation affects DNA and RNA sequencing …”

 

“That sounds familiar.” Yes, I sometimes remember things. 

 

“Hey, is that Sexy Arms Guy? Clint? Hi, Clint!” Skye called. “You finally made a move? Way to go!” 

 

“Actually,” Phil said, “I did, and, yes, the sex is amazing. Now can we get on with the briefing? I don’t want to maintain this connection too long; you’re taking enough of a risk already.” 

 

“Aw, don’t worry. I’ve rerouted the wave through seventeen different channels and six worlds; even if they trace it back, it’ll take them to a computer in a secretary’s office in Von Doom’s headquarters on Latveria and trip all sorts of alarms.”  Skye chuckled. 

 

“Plus, we’re following protocol 7M.  Mack’s on 12B and Tripp went with 23E,” Jemma promised. “Meant Skye had to miss the concert, but that was for the best considering who …” 

 

“Yeah, no biggie.” Skye cut her off.  “Back to this Red Skull character …” 

 

“Skye?” Phil asked. 

 

“It’s nothing, okay? Just a message about the concert; I wasn’t there, I just posted that I was going to throw people off the trail like you taught me …” 

 

“Jemma, what happened?” Phil tried again.

 

“Ward contacted her, asked her to meet up for drinks,” Jemma supplied. “We really weren’t in any danger, weren’t even close to there. She didn’t even answer him.” 

 

“See? Nothing to worry about,” Sky repeated. “Grant’s a giant asshole; if anyone’s working for this idiot Schmidt, it would be him.”

 

“Still, you need to be careful. Anything out of the ordinary is suspect,” Phil told them.  “Don’t trust anyone.” 

 

“Anyone?” Jemma’s voice grew quiet. “Not even if we know them?” 

 

Phil put his coffee on the dash. “Talk to me.” 

 

“I mean, she was my instructor and lab manager in grad school; I asked her for a reference for my doctoral program, so it wasn’t weird that she messaged me. I didn’t tell her anything, didn’t take the call…” Jemma faded out for a second, “but it was a little odd to hear from Betty out-of-the-blue.” 

 

“Betty? Betty Ross?”  Phil sat up and leaned closer. “Tell me exactly what she said. Word for word.”

 

“Nothing of importance,” Jemma insisted. “It was just a friendly hello, how are you doing.  She said she had read a paper and thought of my work on viral inhibitors that I did for a seminar a few years ago. Told me she’d send it my way then asked about Fitz, if he’d gotten his pet monkey yet. The strange part was at the end when she said she was glad to hear I’d gotten into my program and that we’d have to meet up at the next conference.” 

 

“You graduated last year and Betty took you out for drinks afterward,” Fitz chimed in. “Maybe it wasn’t her, could have been one of the bad guys trying to track us down.” 

 

“But why ask about you and the monkey?” Jemma came back with. “That’s a weird detail to include.” 

 

“She could be trying to get a message to someone she trusts. Where’s the next conference being held?” I had a hunch that Betty Ross was reaching out the only way she could. 

 

“Oghma University’s the year’s sponsor; it’s being held on the Danuean orbiting station. Going to be super expensive; no way I can afford to go,” Jemma answered. “Wait, do you think that’s she’s …” 

 

“We’ve got a problem.” Skye broke in. “Someone’s latched onto the wave and are trying to follow it to the source. They’re running an oscillating frequency tabbing program that’s damn advanced; we’ve only got minutes before they hit the firewall. I’m shooting you a zippered file with all the data; should come through in a few …” A notification appeared on the screen. “Starting matrix scrub … Phil? Be careful, okay?” 

 

“You too. Watch out for each other; tell everyone we’re in a barn door situation, to keep low and keep moving,” Phil told her. 

 

“Hey, Clint, you better keep him safe …” 

 

The connection dropped and the comm unit went dark. 

 

“Damn it.” Phil closed his eyes and balled his fists.  “If they get hurt because of me …” 

“They sound like they’re capable of taking care of themselves,” I told him. “Plus they were trained by the best.” 

 

“They’re the best without my help.”  Phil huffed at that but I got a little upturn at the corner of his lips. “God, what a tangled mess.” 

 

“Tangled, yes, but we keep coming back to the same places. Genetic manipulation. Radiation. Revenge.” I could see the picture forming. “This Schmidt, Strucker, whatever we call him, raised by radical parents. His work in what is, for all intents and purposes, eugenics. The riot, his accident … he connects with McMasters’ who knows all about Willinno Tech and the Alliance’s experiments ... “ 

 

“You’ve never asked.” Phil stared at me, his blue eyes wide and open. “About the scar.” 

 

I shrugged. “Figured you’d tell me if you wanted to, but I don’t really need to know..” 

 

“God.” Phil barely blinked as he caught my hand tighter. “I’m not sure if you’re real or I dreamed you up.” 

 

“Pretty steamy dream if it is one.” I brought his fingers to my lips and kissed his knuckles. 

 

“It’s just …” He stopped, inhaled, then said, “I died. In the riots. Stupid decision by commanding officers … the protestors were just college kids venting anger … and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Pushed and fell onto an iron fence post. Couple of them pulled me off; one had emergency training, used a defib unit, got my heart started again. Alliance sent me off to Tahiti … seems when you sign up, you agree to any and all experimental treatments .. and here I am. No longer 100% plain old human anymore, but not very super.” 

 

I couldn’t let that go.  Leaning in, I cradled his face in my hands, so close I could see the crenellations in his irises. “You are, actually. Amazing. Special. Superhuman in that way you have of being oh-so-normal but exceptional at the same time. That you’re here, with me, well, that’s all that I care about; how, why … doesn’t matter to me.”

 

“Clint.”  

 

I felt the warmth of his exhale on my lips as I closed the distance to kiss him. Phil was, well, he just was, that’s all.  Everything.  

 

“We need to …” 

 

One more slant of mouths … we could afford to be in this moment before we rushed to the next. Then I pulled back and smiled. 

 

“Contact the others, tell them Betty’s on Danu which probably means so is Ross. Feed all of Skye’s data into J.A.R.V.I.S. and see what he comes up with. And get our asses to the Dodger so we can make a battle plan,” I agreed. 

 

“Soon as we send the wave, you’re going to fuck me in that big bed,” Phil declared. “And blow jobs in the shower later.” 

 

“You sure you want plain old human me to bend you over?” I teased.“Hey … Steve, Bucky, Bruce, Nastasha, you … that leaves me and Sam as the regular folk.” 

 

“Pararescue members go through a series of testing and enhancements to survive freefall,” Phil said. “So I wouldn’t call Sam regular.”

 

“Just me then.” I thought about it.  “I can live with being the odd normal one.” 

 

* * *

 

“... what she tells you,” Phil was saying. “Melinda’s the best security in the galaxy; if she thinks it’s too risky, it’s too risky. Tony’s got Steve and the others to keep an eye on him; he’s fine. Plus, they’re already on Danu and under the protection of the Adjudicators. Stay where you are.” 

 

Pepper sighed, her worry vibrating across the comm wave. “I know, it’s just … he doesn’t always think before he acts and he has no sense of self-preservation … I usually run interference for him, just to keep him from pissing off those trying to help him …” 

 

“Pretty sure Steve can …” 

 

The ship shivered, a ripple running from bow to stern, then jolted as the engine ground to a sudden halt, tipping me forward and almost tossing Phil from his chair. 

 

“What the …” I grabbed a drawer handle and righted myself. “How did the …” 

 

“Engines are off-line. A Nebula class ship is approaching; shall I raise shields?” The computer’s digitized voice asked. 

 

“Yes.”  I slipped into the co-pilot chair. “And get the engines working, damn it.” 

 

“Engines will reboot in seven-point nine seconds,” the computer informed us. “Unknown ship has engaged targeting system; estimated firing time three point seven seconds.” 

 

“Contact Danu, tell them we’re four clicks out and under attack,” Phil said. He was as calm as I’d ever seen him, fingers flying over the controls. 

 

“Communication array is currently not functioning. As soon as a channel opens, I will send the message.” 

 

“Damn it, we’re dead in the water if we don’t …” 

 

The ship rocked violently; anything not locked down clattered against the walls, my half-finished cup of coffee splattering on the floor.  Lights flashed, alarms blared, all of them warring for my attention. 

 

“There are seventeen systems in need of repair.  The aft airlock is jammed. Ballast tank four is leaking. The food processor is …” The computer droned on.

 

“Report in order of impact on human life,” Phil ordered. “Ignore non-threatening systems.” 

 

“The port shielding is at 62 percent efficiency. The engine will reboot in three point two seconds. Atmosphere reserves have been damaged. Unknown ship is preparing to fire again in four point three …” 

 

A rattle followed by a clang then a pipe burst in the kitchen area, water spraying towards the bed. 

 

“Focus on rebooting!” I shouted at the stupid thing over the din. “Get us out of here.” 

 

“Engine online in two … one … engaging.”  

 

Smooth it wasn’t ...  more of a jerk with loud grinding … but we were moving. Phil had his hands on the controls and he punched us forward, went to bring up the hyperdrive, but shook his head when it beeped and turned red. 

 

“We’re at half-power,” he said. “Computer, implement evasive maneuvers …” 

 

“Implementing.” 

 

Lurching to the left, the whole structure shuddered as we rolled out of the way of the next blast.  Too slow, we were too fucking slow; all they had to do was hit us once, maybe twice more and we’d be dead. 

 

“Come on.”  Phil kept working, trying everything he could. “Damn thing’s supposed to be the fastest ship out here …” 

 

For a second, as the ship dodged and kept evading, I thought we might have a chance, but then the target locked signal sounded as the much bigger ship barreled down on us. 

 

“Phil?” I reached out a hand. Didn’t know what else to do but hold on. “I …” 

 

“Hang on! I’m reversing thrust; gonna put a hell of a strain on you, so buckle up!” Sam’s voice flooded the cabin. I had a second of elation as pure and potent as the most amazing orgasm then my head hit the padded curve of the rest and we freakin’ flipped sideways, turned 180 degrees and flew below the other ship, too close for their guns to find us as we kept pace with them. 

 

“How the hell …”  I suddenly thought of Stark jury-rigging Bucky’s arm with all sorts of gadgets; communication tether in my bow, my ass. 

 

“I’ve taken control of the ship’s systems,” J.A.R.V.I.S. said over the speaker, “and have created remote access for piloting function.” 

 

“I’ve got him running a diagnostic,” Tony added. “Engine is shit; Contrails look good but are crap when it comes to wear-and-tear. One hit and they crumple. Looks like they used an EMP that forced a stall and hinkyied up the intake rod. Not going to get much out of it until that’s replaced, but …” 

 

“Excuse me, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. smoothly interrupted, “but I’m registering a small tear in the outer hull that is venting air. Oxygen levels are falling; they will reach critical in an estimated twelve solar minutes.”

 

“We’re eighteen minutes from the edge of Danuean space at this speed.” Phil glanced at me; he knew how I felt about crossing that line. “But the second we move, we’re going to be target practice.” 

 

“I’ve got an idea,” Bucky chimed in. “Nebula class ships tunnel their power conduits into Jeffries tubes that run along the outer hull. Have to crawl through ‘em to fix even the most basic blown fuse. Hit one of those fuckers and you’ve bought yourself a head start.”

 

“Indeed. I have located one that houses a main coupling,” J.A.R.V.I.S. assured us.  

 

“That’s still six minutes without air.” Yeah, I kind of liked breathing; slowly suffocating in the cold of space wasn’t my ideal way to go. If I couldn’t go quietly in my sleep, I’d vote for quick, right after some amazing sex. 

 

“One thing at a time,” Phil assured me, squeezing my fingers. “Okay, J.A.R.V.I.S. Do it.” 

 

The docking claw lanced out, caught hold of a small protrusion on the ship’s underbelly and twisted.  Sparks flew. 

 

“Okay, boys, hold onto your lunches, we’re going for a ride,” Sam announced. 

 

In all my training, the one area that had been neglected with space flight; odds were, I was never leaving the planet, so why bother with anything but the basics? That’s why I only knew how to fly smaller land craft and shuttles, and they tended towards boring flights in straight lines from point A to point B. I had no clue that a ship could go upside down and sideways, all in reverse ,until the second my stomach pushed its way into my throat and my head expanded then contracted in between heartbeats.  Barely managing not to throw up, I held on and took deep breaths as we zigged and zagged then put on a burst of speed that rattled the whole ship. 

 

“Breathers,” Phil said. “There should be short-term oxygen breathers for emergencies; that’ll keep us alive until we can get help.”  

 

“A supply should be in the third cabinet on the wall to the left of the refrigeration unit,” J.A.R.V.I.S. supplied.  “I suggest getting them now as the oxygen levels are dropping faster than estimated. You have nine minutes until critical level.” 

 

“We’ve got bogies.” The crazier things got, the calmer Phil became.  I felt his stillness slide into my consciousness and push back the growing knot of panic. “Short-range, one man fighters. Seven, no nine.  Look like Canterbury Singles, no later than the 07s; pre-distance upgrade I think. They can’t bank worth shit.” 

 

“On it. Coney Island pattern zed delta should work,” Sam replied. “Give me a… here we go.” 

 

The ship pulled sharply, as close to a 90 degree angle as I’d ever felt, then looped aft and reversed to the port.  Energy bolts lanced through the space where we’d been but we were moving too quickly in a seemingly random pattern of switchbacks and changes. I closed my eyes … if I couldn’t see the floor was the ceiling, maybe I could keep my stomach from rebelling at the constant shifts. I latched onto Phil like the anchor he was, keeping me tethered in a crazy universe where someone wanted me dead.  

 

It seemed like forever until we settled into a normal flight pattern, but J.A.R.V.I.S.’s helpful readout said it had only been a little over four minutes. The leak was getting worse, the acrobatics probably widening the tear from what the sensors could tell. 

 

“Now or never,” I mumbled, unbuckling from the chair. “I’m going for the breathers.” 

 

Wading through the soggy mess of the interior, I got the drawer open and found them tucked into plastifoam protective skins.  I grabbed two of the simple masks that covered only mouth and nose, the air generator a long cylindrical tube. 

 

“Ship’s moving again,” Tony announced. “Damn it all, they must have nano-fixes to get done that fast. Intercept in four minutes unless I can figure out some way to boost your …” 

 

The ship shuddered and I was lifting off the floor, floating in the air as the artificial gravity went out. 

 

“Okay, that’s okay, we can reroute around the … J.A.R.V.I.S., block the auto-emergency protocol … No, we’ve got to short-circuit the catastrophic failure sequence ...” 

 

As Tony narrated everything he tried to do, I made my way to the cockpit using any handhold I could find.  Back in my chair, I passed one of the devices to Phil and slipped the strap of the other around my head so I could find it when the time came. 

 

“Any way to turn off the alarms?” I asked to no one particular. “I’d rather not die with them buzzing in my ears.” 

 

The annoying sounds cut off, and the cabin grew eerily quiet.  Never really, truly thought about death until that moment; I pretty much just knew what they told kids about heaven and life after death, a fairytale of happily ever after to make the bad shit in life seem worth it.  Even when I’d dropped through the vent and onto the negotiation table, determined to stop Barney’s plan, I believed I had a good chance of figuring out a way to solve the problem and survive. But now, low on oxygen, a ship with big guns bearing down, it seemed like the time to recognize just how insignificant my tiny life was in the vastness of space and history and the grand scheme of things. Come what may … and I had no fucking clue what might be once I shuffled off this mortal coil… I realized I knew two things for sure. 

 

Helping Bruce had been the right thing to do; people were dying and suffering and if I was part of stopping that, even in an infinitesimal way, yeah, it was worth it. 

 

The second, well, it was the simplest knowledge of all. Beyond all reason, I loved these people. Sam and Tony and Bruce. Steve and Bucky. Natasha. 

 

Phil Coulson. 

 

To die with Phil was more than I could ever have hoped for. 

 

And with that revelation, the universe rushed in, filling me with a peace that tasted like Phil’s mouth on mine and a serenity that settled me like Phil’s breath on my neck. 

 

If this was all I was given, then it was more than enough. 

 

“Unknown craft, this is the Asgardian Ambassadorial ship the Nyrna Wyrd. Be aware, according to the Intergalactic Treaty Accords of 2742, firing upon an official envoy of the royal throne of Odin is a declaration of war and we will respond in kind.”  

 

I blinked my eyes open; a hyperspace gate was closing behind a large cruiser; it moved between us and the other ship. 

 

“Envoy Stormbreaker, Ambassador Hogun sends his regards; we are prepared to escort you the rest of the way to your destination,” a voice said on a separate comm frequency.  

 

“Woo-hoo! Good guys, four, bad guys, zip!” Tony crowed. “Remind me never to piss off that friend of yours, Phil. She knows people in high places.” 

 

“Melinda.” Phil began to relax. “She called in the cavalry.” 

 

“I’m gonna kiss her when I see her.” A stupid grin spread over my face. 

 

“She’ll run you ragged,” Phil said. “I can’t wait to watch.” 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's going back to Danu. 
> 
> Hold on. 
> 
> The next chapter is going to be explosive.


	36. Inter Chapter 18: Excerpt from The Mountains of Memory, Book IV of the Solar Sorcerer Series, by Lloyd Wong. Baen Books, 10.3354.028.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from The Mountains of Memory, Book IV of the Solar Sorcerer Series, by Lloyd Wong. Baen Books, 10.3354.028.

Excerpt from _The Mountains of Memory_ , Book IV of the Solar Sorcerer Series, by Lloyd Wong. Baen Books, 10.3354.028.

  
  


Dust motes floated in the air, reflecting the wan light of the secondary sun as they rode through the ruins, horses carefully stepping over obstacles, hooves clattering in the eerie silence.  Quillen couldn’t shake the oppressive sense of loss that clung to him, weighing on his shoulders and settling into the folds of his robe. He knew better than to open his wizard’s eye in a place like this, a tomb immemorial to a dead people.  Such devastation he’d only seen once, in a prophetic dream, and the memory turned his blood cold; he hoped never to see it come to pass. 

 

“I don’t like it,” Raxine said, her slight elven frame shivering. “Too many ghosts.” 

 

“G-g-g-ghosts?” Jossola’s violet eyes widened and darted across the desolate view. “No one said anything about ghosts.” 

 

“Don’t worry; I’ll protect you!”  Ghaw smiled at the young apprentice, his tusks peeking through his thick lips. “Ain’t nothing I can’t kill.” 

 

The street opened up and before us lay the remains of the once Great Hall, spires nothing but jagged edges, exhausted walls tumbled down on the ground, and gaping maws where doors once hung. Some said it was beautiful once, filled with life and flowing fountains, talk and sublime architecture, but that was before. Before **they** came. Before the people rose up. Before all died in a blaze of fire and the absolute zero of space. 

 

 Xhin-Vee slowed and Quillen matched its pace, the others drifting ahead. Its multi-faceted eyes unfocused and its second lid lowered; raising its wings, it chittered, brushing them together in a familiar run of notes. 

 

“What do you see?” Quillen asked, a quiet query. The others had yet to trust Xhin-Vee’s vision, the battlefield still too fresh in their minds to accept an enemy in their midst.  

 

“Death. A shroud of blood covers all. Red and Blue flowing in the gutters, splattered on the walls.”  It shifted, back legs bracing on the ground. “Hatred, the fire of zealotry … the enemy’s pleasure in the destruction.  But beneath that is belief, generations of those who loved, who thrived, who called this place home. Sacrifice, willingly given and ruthlessly taken. Everyone, to the last man, woman, and child. The current runs deep and it is untapped, unformed.” 

 

Life energy loosed before its time is powerful enough; that so many died in so few days meant the magnitude of magical potential was both deadly and seductive. If the stone was buried along with the colony, trapped somewhere inside the ruined maze, it would be a prize beyond compare. 

 

Xhin-Vee’s tarsus came to rest on Quillen’s shoulder. “We must be careful, friend Quillen. They who would use this magic could most easily be used by it instead. The conflicts are too much for any but the strongest of wizards to tame.”  

 

“It’s a good thing I’m the Galaxy’s greatest sorcerer then,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s go steal us a glowy rock.” 

  
  
  
  
  


_AUTHOR’S NOTE:  During a lengthy interview given near the end of his life, Lloyd Wong, the most prolific fantasy writer of the latter half of the 34th century, talked about his fascination with Danu from an early age.  The many references to the colony that litter his works come from his love of the legends; most are passing allusions, but the setting of a large part of The Mountains of Memory is patterned after the Great Hall.  Wong admits he based his description purely on his own fancy; his goal was to “mine the subtext of sacrifice and heroic deeds of the Danuean people as a foreshadowing for the tragedy that befalls my characters. Why they made the ultimate choice is one of the great mysteries of the cosmos. They died to a single being to save a galaxy that promptly forgot them. There’s something profound in that, if only we’d take the time to stop and really think about it.”_

 

_Wong’s Solar Sorcerer series won numerous awards including the Nebula Prize and the Binary Twins Books of Distinction. The vid-length adaptations have made Wong’s name a fixture in current pop culture;  the actor Anderson Rosshatch’s portrayal of the wizard Quillen has indelibly cemented his heart-of-gold-roguishness in the collective unconscious of our time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many nods in here to Marvel characters and things. 
> 
> Wong is from Dr. Strange.
> 
> Quillen = Quill, aka Star Lord  
> Raxine = Drax  
> Jossola = Joss Whedon  
> Ghaw is just a damn fun name for an orc-like character.   
> Xhin-Vee is a cross between a grasshopper and a Chitauri.  
> The red and blue of Xhin-Vee's vision is the blood of the Danueans (red) and the Kree (blue)  
> a glowy rock/stone buried in the rubble? Infinity Stone, baby!
> 
> And, the piece de resistance ... Anderson Rosshatch = Banderson Cumbersnatch = Benedict Cumberbatch. :)))


	37. Chapter 18: Take the Money and Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint arrives in orbit around Danu and the shit immediately hits the fan. Plans within plans finally come down to the wire and our heroes are hard-pressed to stay alive. Too bad Clint didn't see this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I broke this chapter into two when I realized how long it was going to be. We're really close to the end now ... so here we go ...

So close and yet it seemed the universe was conspiring against us.

 

“I”m fine staying in the ship. Honestly,” I said for the fourth time. “I’ve caused enough trouble as it is.”

 

“Maybe if I buy the company that contracts out the platform management,” Tony kept talking, not even listening to my objections as we walked down the hallway towards where the Dodger was parked. 

 

“Won’t work.” I really needed to stop this bull session before things got completely out of hand. “Danu doesn’t allow any foreign entities to own anything … property or businesses.  Even the embassies are leased by a Danuean company; only the ships in orbit can claim diplomatic immunity.”

 

“Wait, what?” Sam asked, confused. “I thought that was universal, the whole ‘it’s sovereign ground’ thing of an Embassy.” 

 

I shook my head. “Not here. One of the first things every party in negotiations is told; they’re subject to all planetary laws.” 

 

“Embassy ships in the atmosphere are the only exception,” Phil continued explaining. “Thus why we’re orbiting; it’s vague whether the ship retains autonomy once its landing gear touches the decking.  Sif is talking to the Embassy lawyers right now to clarify their position. ” 

 

We entered the bay just as the Adjudicator shuttle settled onto the metal plating. As soon as the engine finished venting, a door in the side slid open and steps extended. The third person to exit was a curvy dark-haired woman in a smartly fit suit.  

 

“Jess!”  I hurried across the distance, arms extended for the expected hug, only to draw up short at the serious face she turned towards me. I knew every one of her looks, from her ‘That was stupid, Barton’ to ‘What a goofball’ to ‘You are in so deep,’ but this one made my chest tighten and prepare myself for the other shoe to drop. “What is it?”  

 

One of the court officers stepped forward. “Clinton Francis Barton, you are under arrest for violating the terms of order 789492 as dictated by ex filo protocol determined by the Planetary Council. You need to come with us for debriefing and arraignment.” 

 

“But …” I glanced at Jessica; her face was as still as stone. “This is an Asgardian ship and I haven’t stepped foot on …” 

 

“You entered Danuean space; the Council has determined that incursion alone is enough to violate the spirit of the exile order.” The officer had the good grace to wince at the proclamation. 

 

“He’s a witness in a negotiation,” Phil said, coming to stop on my left. “With new information to share, important and time-sensitive data.” 

 

“Adjudicator Drew will accompany the prisoner so his statement is up-to-date and to ensure the negotiation is not tainted by extraneous events.”  The officer cut his eyes to Jessica; she gave him her best withering stare. Ah, so that’s why she was unhappy; she didn’t like this situation any more than I did. 

 

“Question is, do you have the authority to arrest him?” Natasha on my right. “Seems to me, the Asgardians have a say in this; they’ve offered him haven and that means you need an extradition order to remove him from this ship.”

 

“Extradition has already been waived.” Sif entered the bay, her stormy countenance not boding well for my future freedom. “Our new …” Sif scrunched her nose and spit out the words like pieces of rotten fruit, “ … Queen Hela, has ordered us to cooperate with the order.  She values our friendship with Danu and doesn’t want anything to come between our worlds.”

 

“Thor and Loki? Are they …” I didn’t want to know but I did. Couldn’t imagine Hela sparing their lives, not after what I’d seen of her tactics. 

 

“They escaped before their execution with Queen Frigga and others of the royal court; Hela has stripped them of their titles and banished them from the nine realms,” Sif said. 

 

“The King? Wasn’t he on Vanaheim?” Phil asked. “Is he safe?” 

 

“He’s in a coma, poisoned by an assassin’s dart. His doctor believes there’s a chance he will awaken and survive.”  Sif focused on me. “There’s little I can do other than offer my apologies.”

 

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t. Not really, but I’m the first to admit when I’ve been boxed into a corner.  Without Asgard’s sanctuary, I’d clearly flown right into Danuean airspace. “You put yourself out there for me and I appreciate it. You’ve got your own problems to deal with, and, for what it’s worth, I hope Thor kicks Hela’s ass all the way to the outer rim and beyond.” 

 

“Oh, we will, make no mistake. The bitch won’t keep the throne for long.”  Sif’s smile was swift and told of terrible retribution. “Hogun has already filed a breach of treaty complaint; I have never ridden into battle with Danu’s finest, and I look forward to seeing the best of the best in action.” 

 

Right. That was why they couldn’t fight for me; they needed Danu to overthrow Hela. What were the odds?  A coup attempt that forced me to flee, the Asgardians saving me and now having to give me up? 

 

“If you would?” The officer held out a pair of holo-cuffs. “It’s procedure, nothing more.” 

 

“Oh, no way in hell,” Tony objected. “This is bullshit.  I’ve got my lawyers on the line; we’ll tie this place up in litigation so fast, the whole economy will tank …” 

 

“Tony.”  I turned to look at them all, gathered at my back … Tony and Steve, Bucky and Sam … and breathed a sigh of relief that Bruce was under Carol’s watchful eye, safe.  “I’ll be fine. Some hearings and talking and then they’ll kick me off-planet again. Nothing to worry about.” 

 

I held out my hands and the circles closed around my wrists, a familiar weight.  At least this time I wasn’t teary-eyed and coughing up half a lung from smoke exposure.  A couple of steps and I was ready to climb aboard the shuttle. 

 

“Excuse me.” The officer put an arm out to block Phil. “You can’t …” 

 

“I am his partner.” Phil pushed past with ease. “And thus am his legal proxy as designated by the consociation section 4.2.5.12 of Danuean code, by which I have the right to accompany him to any and all proceedings that impact our bond.” 

 

“Consociation?” The officer asked, obviously confused. “I don’t …” 

 

“You’ve negotiated your relationship?” Jessica interrupted. “And have witnesses?” 

 

“I stand as a witness,” Steve said. 

 

“Me too,” Bucky added at the same time as Sam. 

 

“J.A.R.V.I.S. can produce a transcript of the conversation,” Tony offered. “Don’t do vid in the sauna, which is too damn bad.” 

 

Jessica smiled for the first time. “Good. I’ll file the paperwork on the way down.”  

 

“Make that two sets.”  Natasha was already standing in the shuttle doorway.  “Phil’s the consociate companion; I’m his ananormative partner.”

 

“Ananor … what?” The officer asked. 

 

“4.2.10.04, negotiated relationships, other,” Phil answered in his blandest voice. “Designated non-normative, non-gendered.” 

 

“Good God, Barton.” Jessica nudged me in the shoulder. “You went and found two people willing to hitch their lives to yours?” 

 

“Seven,” Tony shouted. “There’s seven of us.” 

 

Jess raised an eyebrow; I grinned back at her. “They’re crazy, but I do love ‘em.” 

 

“Only you, Clint. Only you.” 

 

We lifted off; Phil and Nat took the seat on either side of me, Jessica across the way.  Once we were out of the bay, the officer came back to where we were, leaving the rest of the guard in the front with the pilots. 

 

“Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry about this,” he said. “Orders, you know? Don’t get to decide which ones to follow and which ones not to.” 

 

“Yeah, man, I get it.”  I did; hell, I would have done the same thing in his place. Maybe. Probably. 

 

“It’s just … my cousin worked the Ulaanbaatar negotiations. She’s a transcriptionist and was in the room, right by where the bomb would have gone off. So all of this is horseshit if you ask me.” He said it in a rush, his back to the others, voice pitched low. “Council doesn’t care what I think, though, so there it is.” 

 

“Actually, it means a lot.”  Been so caught up in my own shit, I hadn’t really thought about the other people who’d been involved, hadn’t even asked what had happened to them. “To know she’s okay.” 

 

“She’s got a kid now, eleven months old and completely spoiled by the whole clan. Thanks to you.” 

 

He nodded his head then retreated, leaving us alone. 

 

“It’s not a coincidence,” Phil said. “They’ve been two steps ahead of us the whole way, herding us where they want us to go. I, for one, am damn tired of being on the defensive.”

 

“It doesn’t make sense. Schmidt said he wanted information from Clint, was determined to capture him, make him part of the organization. At least those were his orders,” Natasha said. “But anything he could tell them is moot now and after the failed attempt in space ...” 

 

“Reinterpreting the law takes a lot of effort; only someone in the highest level of Danuean government could issue an arrest warrant,” Phil mused. “Why expend the time and trouble to get Clint in custody? Risk revealing their inside person?” 

 

“I doubt the plan was to let me live no matter what I told them.”  Yeah, I’d been lying awake at night and thinking about the convoluted twists and turns, especially since learning about Red Skull’s background. “Always thought that was pretty stupid, to think I could tell them anything useful.  Maybe Viper and Blonsky bought it, but I think Schmidt’s playing a completely different game.”

 

“You’re slipping out of character again, darling, letting your intelligence show.” Natasha patted my leg. “Crosses and double-crosses; I think you’re right.  Schmidt’s got more than one agenda; look at Ross and Stane. He’s playing both ends against the middle, playing on their greed and self-inflated egos. He did the same with McMasters then let him hang alone when it all came out. His fingers are in so many corporations, colonial governments, the Alliance, the Galactic Parliament. Tells them what they want to hear, takes what he wants, then leaves them broken and in pieces.” 

 

Broken. In pieces. Something Bucky had said when we were in that cell, a niggling memory. “Chaos.  Sewing chaos so no one knows who to trust. He wants everyone to know where the plague came from, to see the nine realms fall into civil war, to know how deep the rot and corruption in the Alliance military goes.  Send CEOs to jail, start a panic about radiation shielding. What if it’s about bringing it all down?” 

 

“I feel like I’ve walked into the middle of one of those political thrillers Bobbi loves so much,” Jessica said. “Are you seriously talking about someone who wants to set the galaxy on fire for fun? Why would he want to do that?” 

 

“Broken window fallacy. Throw a rock at a bakery window; the baker has to pay the glazer to create a new window; what’s bad for one man is good for another. Some make the mistake and think destruction can be beneficial,” Phil explained. 

 

“Schmidt tells this story about how there was a troublesome minority who lived among his ancestors; when they’d taken all they could stand, they banned together one night to chase their adversaries out of the city, destroying the minority’s homes and businesses, so many that the ground was littered with glass.” Natasha shivered. “It was disturbing, how he talked about the purity of his ancestors’ thought. Pretty sure those ideals were drenched in blood.” 

 

“Is that what this is all about? A twisted idea?” Jessica asked. “True believers; we’ve seen so many of those in the last few years, sure they’re right and everyone else is wrong. Like in the Ulaanbaatar case, willing to die to prove their point.” 

 

“Zealot or opportunist, none of this explains his obsession with me,” I said. “What damage could I do sitting on the ship and watching the proceedings from orbit? It’s not like I was mounting a rescue for Betty Ross or handing out pamphlets to start a revolution.” 

 

“We’re landing in five,” the pilot announced. The shuttle slowed as we descended through the congestion of the city. “Security will meet us on the platform.” 

 

It hit me, right then, that I was about to step out the door into the one place I never thought I’d see again.  I sucked in a sharp breath and my knee began to jiggle up and down. The Grand Hall, the negotiation rooms … everything I once thought I wanted, a life and a career, a clan and a sense of belonging.  Arriving in handcuffs, under arrest, heading for the holding cells, I was nobody now, no one, my name wiped from the history of my people. 

 

“This isn’t your home anymore.” Natasha took my left hand in hers. “You were too big for this place, too much for them to understand.” 

 

“We’re your home now.” Phil curled his fingers around my right. “We’re your connection to the universe, the parts that make you whole.” 

 

Jessica’s eyes flicked down to our joined hands then up to my face. “You really are bonded, aren’t you? You found your own path.” 

 

“Yeah, we did.” I inhaled deeply. “Sensei was wrong; being outbred isn’t a handicap.  It’s an opening for transcendence, a way to understand how it all fits together.” 

 

The shuttle jolted as we sat down; the officer was up and sliding the door back before the engine roar died down. “Shuttle 38329, proceeding to intake,” he said into his comm unit. 

 

“After we check in, I’ll …”  Jessica’s words were cut short by a volley of loud zaps as laser beams cut through the officer’s body. Voices rang in my ears as Phil pulled me out of the seat and feel on top of me. The other guards erupted from the cockpit, returning fire. 

 

“... landing bay, repeat, we are under attack …” I could hear the pilot’s voice, calling for help before a shot that bisected his chair. Phil jerked, and I heard his sharp bite of breath; before I could ask if he was okay, Natasha grabbed my elbow and dragged me up. 

 

“Got to get off the shuttle,” she said, pushing us against the wall by the door, Phil beside us. “We’re sitting ducks.” 

 

“Security should have been here,” Jessica said. “I don’t understand how these guys got past them.” 

 

“Let me …” I wiggled over Natasha, keeping as flat as I could until I could duck my head around the edge of the doorway and get a glimpse. “Bad news. The ones firing are security or they’re at least wearing uniforms.” 

 

“Fucking hell.” Jessica reached under her seat, pulled out my pack and handed over the weapons Phil and Natasha had surrendered before boarding. With a touch, she opened my handcuffs. “Here. You might need this if we’re going to have a fighting chance.”

 

Another volley came from a different angle; they were pinning us down, getting closer. Once they were at the shuttle, we were all dead. 

 

“How many?” Phil asked. 

 

“I saw seven. Three on the left, two in the middle, two on the right; they’re using some loading equipment and a low wall as protection,” I answered. Technically, we outnumbered them between the co-pilot and the remaining guards, but they had the advantage of better positioning. 

 

“You get the ones on the left; Phil, take the ones on the right.”  Natasha slipped a small disc out of her pocket. “I’ve got the middle. On my mark.” 

 

She held up three fingers, dropped one, then two, then tossed the disc through the opening; a high pitched squeal cut through the air as the shuttle’s lights went out and cursing sounded from outside. Rushing the door, Natasha and I went out together, my arrows unerringly finding targets and her bracelets sending jolts of electricity dancing through the air.  Our guards rallied quickly and followed, fanning out and clearing a path towards the nearest door into the building. 

 

Beneath my fingertips, my bowstring sang as I fell into the rhythm of draw, notch, and release.  Beside me, Natasha floated like a ballerina, pivoting and aiming, deadly and beautiful, one and the same without separation.  Behind me, Phil anchored us, sure of purpose and hitting dead center, unwavering in the chaotic storm of those arrayed against us. I sank in, the connection growing, and let my muscle memory take over; as if I could see all directions, I began to fire without looking, trusting I’d hit my mark.  

 

Before I’d left Danu, I’d achieved Hachidan, the 8th level of my discipline, perfection in technique and refinement of motion. I’d never gotten beyond, unable to reach past the physical act of shooting the bow, no matter how much my sensei tried to push me. Eventually, he’d given up, convinced I was unable to free my mind from my body, too mired in my own head to lose myself in the art. 

 

But now, in the cross-fire of life and death, surrounded by people I loved and who were risking all for me, my senses expanded and I understood that I wasn’t sending an arrow winging towards a target. No, the arrow and target were one and the same; the head had already buried itself in flesh and bone, my bow only returning the shaft where it had always been. I heard the thunk, saw the puncture, before I drew from my quiver, knew the strike was perfect even as I pulled back the string. 

 

Time slowed, sped up, stuttered and started, paused and stopped until it didn’t matter at all. I spun and shot between the strands of Natasha’s hair, dropped to my knees and let fly as I slid under Phil’s outstretched arm. Used the short retaining wall to launch myself into a full-length flip, legs straight, arrows returning to their home as I rotated.  Running forward before more assailants poured from the doorway, bow becoming a staff that whistled in the air, a harmony to Natasha’s crackling darts and Phil’s sharp blasts. Heartbeat steady, breathing even, two then four then six down. 

 

“They’re inside!” Jessica’s voice floated through the noise. “I think we …” 

 

“This way.” I led to the left, skirting the two-level Enforcement Department and heading towards the office tower. 

 

In truth, the Great Hall was actually a complex of seven different buildings, interconnected above and below ground. Confusing to navigate, the grounds were a patchwork of small courtyards bisected by walls and gates. Built over the centuries, original structures nestled between brand new skyscrapers and sprawling additions. There were few who knew every by-way and separate entrance, the inside a confounding maze of dead-end hallways, stairs that went nowhere, and underground passages that doubled-back as they connected it all. Turns out my ill-spent youth was handy after all: I had passed many an hour exploring the byzantine structures ... that was how I knew about the duct system … and it just so happened there was a maintenance entrance to the piping tunnels not far away. 

 

“I can’t raise anyone,” Jessica said, fiddling with her comm unit. “If we can get through to Carol …” 

 

Damn it all, there were more of them around the corner; Natasha almost got hit before I yanked her back. 

 

“Retreat?” One of the guards asked, and I realized they were all looking at me for direction.

 

“There’s a door by that big atmo-unit, right over there.” I pointed to the Shipping Pool Garage. “All we’ve got to do is get there.” 

 

“Three of us lay down a suppressing fire while the rest make a run for it.” Phil winced as he leaned back. “If we had eyes up high that would help.” 

 

“On it.” Jessica beat me to the punch; she kicked off her shoes and was halfway up the smooth wall before I got my mouth open. “Wait for my signal.” 

 

“Parkour?” Natasha watched her climb. 

 

“Muay Thai, Kru Yai. She’s tenth level,” I told her. 

 

“Critiques later,” Phil said. “We’ve got more coming up behind. Let’s go.” 

 

Jess’s first shot took out two with one blast; the others startled and jumped behind whatever barrier they could find. We lost no time, bursting out into the open and sprinting full out, firing as we went, Nat and I in the lead.  I skidded to a halt, grabbed the handle, but of course the damn thing was locked; I prayed with every fiber of my being to anyone who would listen that no one had figured out the flaw in the highly technologically advanced security panels. I smashed my fingers over the digital window then swiped my thumb, rubbing the greasy residue from the workers who routinely went in and out.  If I ever designed one of these things, I’d take dirty hands into account.  
  


“Clint?” Phil crouched behind the atmo-unit, returning fire. “We need …” 

 

“Open sesame!”  I flung the door wide. “Alright, everybody, down the rabbit hole! Jess, get your ass over here.”  

 

We covered the last two guards, one of who was limping, a nasty burn singed across his thigh. Under different circumstances, I’d have enjoyed Natasha’s flabbergasted look when Jess jumped off the roof in a running dive, caught a decorative rod, spun twice then used the momentum to land in a perfect roll, popping up right in front of us but there wasn’t time. I slammed the door behind us, grabbed Natasha’s gun and blasted the lock pad after we were all inside. 

 

“Bastards probably have an overload code.” Jessica checked her gun’s charge. “If they’ve got someone on the council, they’ll have optics on the sub-levels in a few seconds.” 

 

“Not everything’s on those plans,” I reminded her. “No one wants to talk about the fast track or the failed halo vents.” 

 

Her eyes lit up. “That’s how you always got to the transport first!”  

 

A loud thump sounded from the closed door; dust shook from the ceiling. 

 

“Talk later. Move now,” Natasha said. “Let’s go.” 

 

Someone once had the bright idea to install a moving walkway under the whole complex, a simple enough matrix of tunnels where a track zipped along and air pushed people forward in a  lighter gravity well. But politics and overspending and a bad design spelled the end of the project after three years of construction. Few people knew that a working section still existed; I had no clue if anyone else ever used it.  I’d stumbled upon it when I was twelve and looking for a quiet place away from exasperated looks and sighs from my sensei and my clan elders. 

 

We moved as quickly as we could through the first three turns, the injured guard accepting help from one of his colleagues. Two doors and a set of stairs later, we squeezed behind the water intake valves for the central fountain. The entrance was hidden behind a curtain of pipes, a tiny door for engineers to get to the mechanical coils. Skirting those we came out into a platform space, lights flickering on as we entered. 

 

“Sit down,” I told the guard, pointing to one of the dust-covered benches, then I turned to the others. “Give us ten minutes then take the westbound track and get off at the fourth stop; the stairs there will bring you up under the hospital annex. Get him a doctor then call Carol Danvers, tell her what’s happening. Don’t talk to anyone else, understand?” 

 

“But we’re …” one of the guards started to argue.

 

“No one else,” the wounded guard agreed. “Those guys had my old unit’s insignia, but I didn’t recognize them. Whoever they are, they’re not ours.”

 

I gave him a nod before I kicked on the power to the track; with a muted rumble, the plexiflex floor began to move, disappearing down darkened tunnels. 

 

“Phil, you’re going with them.”  I rounded on him, grabbed his hand and held his bloody fingers out for everyone to see. 

 

“No.” Phil didn’t glare, he didn’t even grimace as I pulled back his jacket and saw the stains on his shirt. “Bonded, remember? You can’t get rid of me that easy.” 

 

 “Phil.” Nothing could happen to him, not after I’d just found him. “No way I’m letting you die because of something I don’t even know I’ve done.” 

 

He caught my face with his other palm, held my gaze with his own. “Dying for you would be a privilege,” he said. “But we’re both living through this because I have a long list of fantasies we’ve yet to fulfill.”

 

Natasha smacked me in the back of the head. “No one’s leaving anyone. We’re going to find Schmidt and Ross and this Danuean Council member, kick their asses, and ride off into the galaxy. Got it?” 

 

“Yeah, I got it.” Warmth curled up my spine. “Stubborn idiots, both of you.” 

 

“Look who’s talking,” Jessica said. “And as much as I’m enjoying watching this domestic bliss, we need to go.” 

 

We left the guards … they didn’t ask to be part of this and maybe, just maybe, if they weren’t with us, they’d be okay … and headed east. I’d forgotten the track jumped and jiggled; part of why it wasn’t finished was the balance issues. We held onto the handrail as we zipped along, riding it all the way to the last stop, a cobweb filled small platform that was half-finished, only scaffolding as a way up to a control room for the fire retardant system. I kept an eye on Phil the whole way out; the bleeding was stopping, finally, and he was only a little bit stiff. 

 

“Where are we?” Jessica asked as we hit the exit. 

 

“On the outer wall by the trade entrance. The atrium cafeteria isn’t far.” I paused, fingers on the door handle. “Look, they haven’t tripped the emergency isolation shut down or we’d hear the alarms, so we should be able to get to the delivery dock; there’s overlap there from the citywide comm wave so we can call Carol, maybe get through to J.A.R.V.I.S.”

 

“They’ll be watching the frequencies,” Natasha said. “Once we initiate the connection, we won’t have long before they pinpoint us.”

 

“The trade entrance is the busiest,” Jessica explained. “It’ll make us harder to find and you can slip out into the city much easier.” 

 

I cracked the door; the sounds of transports and sleds mixed with voices filtered in. We came out behind a stand of burtonberry bushes, a favorite place for cheroot inhalers to spend their breaks with the sweet-smelling smoke. At a sedate walk, we traversed the sidewalk, circled the shimmer of the forcefield screening curtain, and made our way to a corner where a trash disposal was tucked next to an old battered bench and some seating.  

 

“A popular spot.” Natasha surveyed the security, where the cameras were pointed and the various safety measures that dotted the wall behind us. “A wide lens with panoramic angle; if we stay close, the facial recog will have a hard time separating our images.” 

 

“Don’t need long.” I’d tucked my bow into my backpack, the better to not draw attention; now I reached in and tapped the comm link, opening the connection menu. “All I need is … oh, good. A private comm stream from someone at a law office; looks like one of those new always connected units. Perfect.”  Didn’t take more than a second to hop on the wave. “If we’re lucky, we can get through to … J.A.R.V.I.S, we need to get Carol on the line. Can you …” 

 

“Clint!” Carol came through loud and clear. “They’ve put out a bulletin on you and your friends, said you’ve taken Jessica hostage, killed some guards, and are armed and dangerous. It’s bad; they’ve arrested Dr. Banner and are trying to get the rest of them but the Asgardians are balking. You need to go to ground, you understand? Shut down this wave and don’t get back on. My hands are tied; they’re saying I’m too close to the situation to …” 

 

“Mr. Barton.” A man’s voice cut in. “I’m sure this is all a misunderstanding; as one of the heroes of our clan, I’m sure there’s some logical explanation for all of this.  Come in peacefully and we’ll get this straightened out; there’s plenty of room for negotiation on all sides.” 

 

Jessica’s eyes widened. “Pierce?” she mouthed the name.  

 

Alexander Pierce, head of the Hawk Clan, the man who’d argued for the clan to raise me and had stood on my behalf in the Ex Filo tribune. One of the most powerful men on Danu. If he was involved with Schmidt … I cut the connection and said, “We’ve got to go. Now.” 

 

My luck held for once; second meal must have just ended in the cafeteria if the stream of people exiting the building was an indication, and it wasn’t hard to join them.  Had a moment of panic before I stepped through the force field; we were leaving instead of coming in which worked in our favor. Visitors had to be logged in, which we hadn’t been, and we could exit at any time. Safety protocols, got to love them. Can’t keep people inside in case of an emergency; nobody wants to be trapped in a fire or other life-threatening situation.  Oh, the system would note three unknowns had merged out, but they’d have to go back and look at the individual scans to make the connection. Jessica, on the other hand, was a problem; if they’d put out a watch on her, passing through the field would let them know exactly where she was. Well, she might have been a problem if she hadn’t been able to scale the wall in an overgrown spot, meeting us on the corner without so much as a hair out of place.  

 

One thing we didn’t have to worry about was surveillance once we were in the city. While the primacy of negotiation was from the original settlers who prized pacifism above all, the worship of individual privacy was a legacy of the more militant of the three groups. While other worlds collected data on their citizens’ every move, Danueans refused any suggestion of being watched. Medical records were the sole property of the person -- they were imbedded in microdermals with layers of protective firewalls to prevent casual access -- and ownership was tantamount to sovereignty in our homes. Even in my crappy little place I’d rented, I could refuse entry and pretty much do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t bother anyone else.  Within reason, of course; setting fire to the building would get my ass throw in jail as would hiding illegal on-world visitors. But if I wanted to get high and sing show tunes, or paint my walls purple and have seventeen shelves full of books, as long as the place was in the same condition when I left as when I moved in, then, hey, I could do it. 

 

What that meant was that we could move about the city with our heads down and a little sleight of hand in an alley when it came to our clothing.  Jessica gave her jacket to Natasha who stripped her top off and went with her simple black bra under the jacket. Phil took my shirt and I got a good look at his wound … it was a bleeder but not that deep. I tore strips off his blood-spattered top to wrap around his waist before he donned mine, leaving me with his jacket and a bare chest.  The leftover strips Natasha used to wrap around her hair while Jessica did something complicated with her fingers and ended up with a braid that she wound around and tied off. Wasn’t hard to snitch a hat or two as we closed in on destination; a bin at a coffee shop held ones left behind and a couple others came from low-hanging pockets. By the time we got to the main campus quad, we looked more or less like students with slouching shoulders and sleep-deprived looks.  

 

“You sure about this?” Jessica asked for the third time as we entered the astrobiology building. 

 

“She said her hands were tied.” I opened the door and headed for the stairs. “Only person who ever topped Carol was Bobbi, so here we are.” 

 

She didn’t buy it, I could tell, but Carol was sending me a message. I had no clue why she wanted us to find Barbara Morse, Ph.D. and a shared lover, but I trusted Carol completely. Bobbi too; just because we stopped fucking didn’t mean we weren’t friends anymore. 

 

Bobbi’s lab was on the fourth floor; it was a different one, bigger with more bells and whistles than the one she’d shared while we were together. Exiting into a quiet hallway, we hugged the wall, out of the line of sight of the transparent plexi shield, and didn’t get far before we heard the raised voices. 

 

“... am NEVER going to help you!” A woman was shouting. “Threatening my friends? Can’t you see how wrong this is? All of it?” 

 

“Do the damn tests or I’ll …” That was definitely General Thaddeus Ross’s voice; I’d recognize his angry tone anywhere. 

 

“What? Kill your own daughter? I used to believe you wouldn’t go that far, but now …” 

 

I peeked into the room. A black-haired woman with the same nose line as the General was facing the doorway; she was standing between Ross, who had his back to me, and an unconscious Bruce who was tied to a chair.  Beside him, Bobbi was struggling with her own bonds, her blonde ponytail whipping right and left as she glared daggers at the General. Unfortunately, I could also see three of Ross’ men with their blasters trained on the prisoners. 

 

“Betty Ross?” Phil whispered. 

 

“Bruce and Bobbi too.” Bruce had worked with Bobbi when he studied here. Why he was in her lab, I couldn’t hazard a guess. 

 

“...won’t have to make that decision, will I, Banner? You know what’s at risk. Tell her,” Ross threatened. 

 

“It’s okay, Betts. He’s never going to leave us alone if we don’t give it to him.” Bruce sounded absolutely wrecked, his words wracked by his guilt. “Too many good people have been drawn into this thing. I won’t let anything happen to Bobbi or you. I can’t … you have to do it.” 

 

I looked at the others. They each nodded their agreement. Raising my hand, I silently began counting down with one finger then two then …

 

“Jesus, Clint, you really going to charge in there without knowing how many of ‘em there are?” 

 

I whipped around to see the man standing across the hall, framed in another doorway. As he stepped into the hall, light fell across the plane of his face, and I could see the differences, break of the nose, cheeks more narrow, his jawline shaved slimmer.  But even with the reconstruction, I knew who he was from balls to bone as I knew my own self. 

 

“Barney?” I stared at my brother. 

 

“Why didn’t you stay exiled, little brother?” He sighed as he waved the men behind him forward. “Things would have been so much easier if you weren’t such a trouble magnet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've always known that Barney's part in Clint's exile was too pat and that he'd be back. If Schmidt's controlling Ross and Stane and McMasters, why not Mandarin Corporation too? And it was way too easy for Barney to be a radical that came back just to bomb the negotiation ... Barney Barton might be an asshole, but he's smarter than that. 
> 
> That's Jessica Drew, aka Spiderwoman. Muy Thai is a fighting style called the "art of eight limbs" so it's a perfect fit for her.
> 
> That's Bobbi Morse, aka Mockingbird, Hawkeye's ex-wife and partner in comics canon. She's got a wide and varied backstory; in some of the comics, she's a biologist, so I've gone with that here. If you go back to the early chapter where Bruce talks about his time at Oghma University, he alludes to working with Bobbi
> 
> Embassies are generally considered foreign soil, i.e. if you're in the American Embassy in Great Britain, you're on American soil. Danu's too biased against off-worlders to allow that. 
> 
> Yeah, that's good old Alexander Pierce from CA:WS. I needed a Danuean Council member to work with Schmidt and who better than our favorite dead HYDRA inside SHIELD guy. 
> 
> And, finally, we get to meet Betty Ross! Been talked about a lot before this.
> 
> Ananormativity is a new term in gender studies: it's a corollary to heteronormativity (forced heterosexuality in a cultural context). Ananormativity is forced romantic relationships, i.e. the assumption if two people are close friends, they must be romantically involved and can't be satisfied with no sex.
> 
> In case you missed it, the story Schmidt likes to tell about the broken glass ... that's when the Nazis drove the Jews out of their homes by destroying them. It's called Kristallnacht and the 81st anniversary was yesterday.


	38. Inter Chapter 19: Excerpt from The House of M: The Fall of Howard Stark's Empire and the Rise of SI Corporation, Sokovia Publishing, 12.3454.029.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt from The House of M: The Fall of Howard Stark's Empire and the Rise of SI Corporation, Sokovia Publishing, 12.3454.029. 

Excerpt from  **_The House of M: The Fall of Howard Stark's Empire and the Rise of SI Corporation_ ** , Sokovia Publishing, 12.3454.029. 

  
  


They arrested Obediah Stane on a Thursday, just after he’d finished a second round of golf at the Callisto Manor Highwater Club.  Ever so polite to one of the richest men in the inner solar system, the officer of the court allowed Stane to change into his bespoke suit with a tailored waistcoat and a 4,000 credit pocket watch before he walked him to the waiting transport. Whispers trailed after him, but most of the wealthy patrons shrugged off the whole encounter, sure Stane would be out in time for the Doctors Without Limits Gala to raise funds for plague victims later that evening. 

 

That would be the last time Stane was a free man, but no one knew it yet. 

 

What began that day was a long, intensive set of investigations into Stane’s business dealings and his cozy relationship with the Alliance military including President Schmidt. In less than two Callisto days, Stane was denied bail; two weeks later, he was charged with over thirty-two counts of racketeering, money laundering, and other capital crimes. His name would be linked to some of the most notorious criminals of the age including the Butcher of Khodaumi, General Thaddeus Ross, and Ian McMasters, father of the notorious Red Room operatives. 

 

There had long been rumors that Stane was in bed with any number of unsavory characters; no company had as many fingers in as many pies as SI did during this era.  The elite world of company presidents and leaders, many of whom were making record windfalls from the same sources as Stane, willingly turned a blind eye to his machinations.  No one was surprised he’d been caught, nor at the litany of corporate crimes laid at his door. What did surprise almost everyone were the assassination attempts on Tony Stark and just how deep Stane’s connections ran in the terrorist community.  Onlookers were shocked to learn Stane contracted a kidnapping attempt through the Mandarin Corporation, an early incarnation of the ultra-violent Ten Rings, the same fundamentalist group who would attempt an ethnic cleansing of the colonies 236 solar years later. 

 

Stane’s links to the  Neudeutsch Aryan Enclave on Mars were laid bare and came under harsh attack from President Schmidt and the U.E.G. Of less interest at the time was Stane’s place on the board of the burgeoning Galactic Industrial Consortium; the fledgling group did not move into mainstream politics until after the Ten Rings War and, by then, SI Corporation was the pinnacle of clean energy and smart colony building, their days as a weapon manufacturer long forgotten.  Even after the Consortium took center stage in the centralized government, Stane’s name remained a footnote in the G.C.’s history.

 

That Stane was playing all sides against each other and profiting from the ensuing battles exploded into the public consciousness with startingly swiftness.  His fall from the lofty heights of power reverberated in the company for decades to come; Virginia Potts, CEO from 2888 to 2898, would use Stane’s name as a rallying cry of “Never Again” during the restructuring and consolidation of the company …

  
  
  
  
  


_ Authors note:  I’ve plucked this tiny morsel from my own work because of the reference to the Mandarin Corporation. After reading about Clint’s heroics during the negotiations of Ulaanbaatar Province, the mention here can be taken in a completely different context. Had the Daneauns survived the Kree, would they have put a stop to the growth of the Ten Rings and saved millions of lives? It’s one fo the reasons I love history so, the ‘what ifs’ and ‘might have been.’ Bringing Clint’s story back into the spotlight may encourage us to reclaim this amazing lost culture and, in doing so, we may learn more about ourselves today.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the last of these inter chapters with Wanda's own book on Stark Industries. This is where we started, with Wanda writing The House of M and finding Clint's personal logs. And so it's fitting we come back to this echo of Iron Man, the movie that started the MCU. Without Obediah and Tony and the Ten Rings, we wouldn't have the rest of the movies I love so much. Nor would we have this story, the culmination of so many themes in my writing. :) 
> 
> I've changed the number of paragraphs because I forgot to account for the epilogue (Chapter 20) and Wanda's final afterword.


	39. Chapter #19:  The Love You Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets to throw some punches, Bruce gets angry, and Tony gets to do some hacking. There's a big confrontation and Clint has his fifteen minutes of fame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've changed the chapter numbers because I forgot to count Chapter 20, the epilogue, and then Wanda's Afterword. Those should be up shortly.

“I mean, what the fucking hell, Barn?” I ignored the guns pointed at me and got right up in my brother’s face. “All that blow yourself up shit, getting me to do your dirty work for you? I thought you were dead; I fucking mourned you, asshole.” 

 

“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t have had to if you hadn’t gone all heroically stupid on me,” Barney argued back. “You had to drop out of the ceiling like some demented raccoon or something and make us change the whole damn plan.” 

 

“A suicide bomb is not a plan!” I balled my fingers into a fist and only barely kept myself from throwing a punch. “And all that bullshit you were spewing, the Mandarin line about purification through fire? It was just another one of your half-assed con jobs?” 

 

“Wasn’t nothing half-assed about it,” he insisted. “Accomplished what we needed it to and got you out of everyone’s hair, or at least they thought it did. I tried to tell ‘em you’re like bad sushi with your habit of coming back up.” 

 

Plural pronoun. Not I. We accomplished. Fuck it all, Barney was in deep. “You working with Schmidt’s chaos-causing circus?” I demanded. “They recruit you for those negotiations?” 

 

He laughed. “Naw, that was all Pierce’s idea. The great Hawk clan chief himself. He’s the true believer, buys all of that crap, the New World Order, purity through fire, chaos as cleansing. Thinks this place can be the pinnacle of perfection, a superior race, once he gets rid of a few undesirable elements like you and me and all the outbreds. Don’t stop him from using me to do his dirty work, though. Now, Schmidt’s a lot more rational about how to get shit done; all I had to do was suggest we recruit you, and he was on board with it.” 

 

“It was you? Jesus Christ, do you have any idea what almost happened, what those guards were going to do to me?” 

 

For the first time, Barney blinked, confusion filling his eyes. “They questioned you, so what? I knew you couldn’t give them anything then Schmidt would make you an offer …” 

 

“They almost raped me, you asshole!” I shouted. 

 

He blanched. “What? Who? Who tried to … tell me and I’ll kick their asses …” 

 

“I killed them,” Natasha interrupted. “And I’ll do the same thing to anyone ... anyone … who tries to hurt Clint.” 

 

“I didn’t intend for it to happen.” Barney backpedaled in the face of Natasha’s stone-cold glare. “After his exile, I thought I could help him …” 

 

“That’s the same excuse you always used when your schemes go wrong,” Jessica said. “You didn’t mean to. It just happened. Not your fault.” 

 

“Once a bitch, always a bitch, ‘eh Drew?” Barney turned angry. “What Clint sees in all you ice-cold …” 

 

The crunch as my fist connected with Barney’s nose was loud; he reeled back, hand flying to staunch the blood.  Surging towards me, Barney growled and I steeled myself for the hit that was coming; he’d gotten Dad’s temper in all the worst ways. 

 

“Enough with the family drama,” Ross said. “Round them up. All of them.” 

 

Guns in the face make a compelling argument; in seconds, I was kneeling by Bobbi’s chair, the others forced down too.  When they tried to put Barney to the ground, he struggled, earning a goose egg over his eye for his trouble. 

 

“You double-crossing Schmidt?” Barney spat out. “Not smart, man.” 

 

“I’m just beating him to the punch.” Ross had a hand on Betty’s arm, holding her close to him. “Yes, I know about Stane’s pending arrest, how Pierce is going to be outed as soon as he undermines the negotiations, all the planned leaks of information. None of that matters; once I have Banner’s DNA, Schmidt can burn the whole damn planet down if he wants.” He pushed Betty to the counter. “Draw the sample.”

 

“You’re going to kill them, aren’t you?” she said. “Even if I do what you want.” 

 

“Betty, this is not the …” Ross started. 

 

“Of course he is,” Phil spoke over him. “Along with anyone who knows the truth about Jansky and the green plague. He’s already under a cloud from Khodaumi and the prison scandal; he can’t afford another strike on his record.” 

 

“I’ve had enough of you, Coulson.” Ross’ voice thundered as he turned Phil’s way. “It’s men like you with that moral stick-up-your-ass idiocy who stand in the way of the future. Sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to make things better. The galaxy will be well rid of you and your band of misfits.” He fumbled in his pocket and drew out a familiar black device. “I’m going to enjoy watching Banner take you apart ….” 

 

The window behind us shattered, Steve’s silver disc bouncing from guard to guard before zipping back outside. A pair of booted feet slammed into another, the downdraft from Sam’s wings blowing a second guy over. Bucky dove and rolled into knees, knocking over three more; blasts of bright blue light hit others in the chest, Tony’s gauntlet raised and firing. 

 

I surged up, landing an uppercut and a solid punch to a solar plexus. All around me, chaos reigned as the fight grew pitched and mean, a close in, body-to-body melee, the only goal to stay alive. No time to meditation or take a breath, unity exploded between heartbeats. I kicked the leg of Bobbi’s chair so it skittered out of the path of a laser bolt, used the edge of Bruce’s to backflip and the momentum of my weight pushing Bruce behind the counter, caught the laser Natasha tossed into empty air, dropped to my knees to fire around Phil then came up in time to drive an elbow into a guard about to shoot Jessica in the back. 

 

Suddenly, Bruce shouted, a wordless roar, his body bowing backward. Green ran below the surface of his skin, his body changing, shifting. He twisted, flinging his arm, knocking equipment and a comm unit off the nearest table. 

 

“Oh, my God,” Betty’s voice cut through the noise; her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at Bruce. “The mutation, it’s …” 

 

“Go,” Bruce ground the word out between clenched teeth. “Everyone. Get. OUT!” 

 

Fueled by rage, he launched himself at the nearest guards, grabbing one in each hand and slamming them together. Phil pulled me out of the radius as the remaining guns turned Bruce’s way. He made short work of three more, throwing one out the window and the rest into the wall. 

 

“See what you’ve created?” Ross called from the doorway, box in hand. “With Alliance soldiers like this, we can stand against ….” 

 

I rammed him straight on, so pissed off I didn’t think, just acted; we tumbled into the hallway and I drove my fist into his smug self-satisfied face. The box went flying from his hand; I hit him again then lunged for it. 

 

“Doesn’t matter.” Ross had blood between his teeth. “He’s mindless now; you’re all dead.” 

 

“Fuck you.”  I kicked him then snatched the box. “You don’t know him at all.” 

 

Bruce stood in the middle of the mess, muscles pumped large and veins raised; he towered over the counter, eyes wild as they darted around the room, taking in everyone’s positions. The guards were all down, the others still, waiting to see what happened next. 

 

“Bruce.” I held my arms out, laid the box on a desk and stepped away. “It’s okay. Everything’s going to be fine.” 

 

Voice like gravel, he was trembling with the effort to not move. “I had to stop them.”

 

“Yes, you did.” Phil came to stand beside me. ”You saved us.” 

 

“... don’t want to hurt you …” Sweat stood out on Bruce’s brow.

 

“You haven’t,” Steve said, “and you won’t.”

 

“You don’t know that.” His voice quietened; brown eyes glanced at Betty who was crouched behind a chair. He took a step her direction, glass breaking under his foot. She gave a little gasp when she got a full view of the ripped shirt and emerald-hued skin. “I’m sorry, Betts.” 

 

“Oh my God.” Her eyes widened. “It’s grafting on your DNA, right down the cellular level, isn’t it? You’re ...” 

 

“... a monster. I know.”  Bruce flinched at the word. 

 

“No, Bruce, that’s not what I meant,” she said, a tremble in her voice. “You’re not …”

 

“Yes, he is,” Natasha countered. “We all are; lost souls who found each other out in the black. Whether we’re injected with mutated viruses or genetically modified or …”

 

“... given untested serums …” Steve added. 

 

“... experimented on …” Bucky tossed in.

 

“... had an altitude adjustment …” Sam joined.

 

“... designed weapons …” Tony offered.

 

“... come back from the dead …” Phil said. 

 

“.... or are  a visitor from the planet of the sluts.” I stepped closer. “A wise man once told me that I’m more than what Danu made me, that I had to go in and through, not up and out. You are the strongest person I know, Bruce; you risked all to save others, stood up to the Alliance and big companies. The strength’s always been inside you, you’ve just got to make it your own.”

 

“That’s not fair.” His breathing slowed and I could see the focus coming back in his eyes. “Quoting my advice back at me.” 

 

“Yeah, well, it was good advice,” I told him “Hey, what do you say we head out of here, find a quiet place for a little meditation, maybe try a new technique?”

 

“Your meditation line actually worked on him?” Bobbi said. “I completely misread the situation; I went with the naked all the time plan; too obvious, I take it.” 

 

“Wait, you wanted to …” Bruce was almost back to normal; now a blush replaced the sickly green. “I completely missed that.” 

 

“Um, I think it’s time to go.”  Jessica looked out the broken window. “We’re gathering a crowd.” 

 

“Is there a back way …” I started to ask. 

 

“We’ll go the back way …” Bobbi started to say.. She smiled at me. “Just like old times, ‘eh?” 

 

“More shooting than I remember.” I tossed the black box to Bruce and glanced around. “Where’s Barney?” 

 

“Ran off during the fight,” Natasha told me. “Ross?

 

“Well, fuck.”  Only a smear of blood on the wall in the hallway was where I’d left him. 

 

“Later,” Phil promised. “This Pierce character is first; we won’t be safe until we know who we can trust..”

 

“Speaking of …” I linked an arm under Bruce as he sagged forward, almost collapsing, “... what happened to Carol? Pierce had to waylay her somehow.” 

 

“My fault.” Bruce winced but kept putting one foot in front of the other. “Ross called, said he had Bobbi and Betty; I slipped away to confront him.” 

 

“I’m so sorry,” Betty said, keeping pace as we crossed through a room and went out another door. “I thought if I talked to him, could just get him to listen but he brought me here, used me as bait. He was a good man once.” 

 

“Whatever he was, ma’am, he’s something else now.” Steve gently took her arm and guided her into the back stairwell Bobbi led us to. “You did your best, but we need to get you someplace safe so you don’t get caught in the crossfire.” 

 

Our best bet was the weather tunnels; at the height of Danuean summer, the foot traffic would be almost nil. Winter winds could be brutal, with snow piled so high that first floor entrances would be blocked; being able to get around without going outside was a necessity, thus weather tunnels. As soon as we hit the bottom level, we took the closest archway down and were in a cool rock-hewn passage. 

 

“We need to split up,” Phil suggested. “Get Bruce and Betty somewhere he can rest.” 

 

“I’ve got a place,” Bobbi volunteered. “Clint knows where. I’ll take them and anyone else who wants to go. We’ll be safe.” 

 

“Good,” I agreed. “Jess and I will find Carol and make our way to the Council chambers. The rest of you …” Natasha narrowed her eyes at me; Phil raised an eyebrow. “Right, okay, Jess, Natasha, Phil and I will …” 

 

“Oh, hell, no.” Tony patted me on the shoulder. “Every time we let you go off on your own you end up almost getting killed. It’s an all or nothing proposition, Barton. We do this together so it gets done right.” 

 

“I hate to admit it, but I agree with Stark on this one,” Bucky said.

 

“I’m coming too.” Bruce pushed away from us. “Bobbi will take care of Betty, but this is my mess to fix.” 

 

“What’s that old saying? All for one, one for all?” Sam grinned. 

 

I wanted to argue … I wanted them all to stay alive and have long happily-ever-afters together, one big found family bumming around the galaxy in the Dodger. But I also wanted them at my back for the purely selfish reason that together we’d have a hell-of-a-better chance at surviving.  

 

“Stubborn assholes, the lot of you,” I grumbled. Bobbi started to argue. “No, you’re our ace-in-the-hole; someone’s got to coordinate tech and comms.” I sighed. “Fine, let’s go have fun stormin’ the castle.” 

 

“Then massive orgy of Biblical proportions after,” Tony said. “Drinks and food and fucking on me.” 

 

“All of that on you?” Bucky asked. “Should be interesting.” 

 

“That’s not what he meant, Buck,” Steve admonished. 

 

“Hey, I’ll try anything once,” Tony replied. 

 

There were only three ways into the Council chambers; as some of the most protected areas on planet, our options were limited and we were already making a big assumption that Pierce would be there. The most obvious route would be through the tunnels and up into the Adjudicator’s offices; there was a direct sky bridge on the third level; with Jessica in the lead, the odds were in our favor of getting to the crossover. But the architecture of the bridge was all glass and chrome and soaring arches that would leave us exposed to ground or air fire. Worse yet, the route was part of the catastrophic protocol; in event of an all-world attack, it was mined to be blown from either side, effectively cutting off egress for hostile forces. 

 

The second option was less direct but gave fewer sightlines and places for an ambush.  Unfortunately, it took us right through the practice range and living areas of current security personal, literally routing us by the officer of the watch’s office. Considering Pierce’s position and his reach into the ranks of those serving, we had no way of knowing who might be on Schmidt’s payroll and who would just be following the orders of a superior officer. I had no desire to pull the trigger on a guy just doing his job.. 

 

That left us with the third path and it was the one Pierce would never expect: we were going in the front door and walking right up the main staircase. Thing was, the Great Hall wasn’t just a symbol, it was the heart of the culture, open to everyone. Daily, people filled its halls, taking care of business, coming and going, working and eating and being part of governing and negotiating. It was a risk, of course, but I was willing to bet the rank and file guards would hesitate to target civilians, orders or no.

 

It’s not like outbred hatred was anything new, but a Clan chief working with an outsider and using Danuean forces to do his dirty work?  Pretty sure the majority would be just as pissed off as Jessica and Bobbi once they knew. 

 

At least I hoped that was true. 

 

Soon as Tony had J.A.R.V.I.S. patch a line into Carol, she informed us that my face was all over vid screens. Bad news for sneaking in, but good news in the fact that the commentators weren’t buying Pierce’s line about me being the villain of the piece. When the Councillor’s office only released snippets of the fight on the landing platform, some enterprising soul had found the complete feed; the main outlets were playing our dash from the shuttle to the building on an endless loop, pointing out how the supposed terrorists were protecting the very people sent to arrest them and how those attacking us were wearing masks to conceal their identity, not a usual part of the security uniform. Clustered in a stairwell, we watched and I stared at the image of myself making shot after shot.

 

“... why he was awarded the Fidalis; the Council still refuses to give us any information about the Ex-Filo process ...:” one of the commentators was saying.

 

“Damn, Barton, that’s some serious woo-woo level shit right there,” Tony said, flipping to another wavelength. “Always knew you had it in you.”

 

“According to the documents provided, Barton was Hachi-dan before he was exiled, but this display is beyond that skill level, wouldn’t you agree, Sensei Arcturus?”  A serious-faced woman turned to the older man sitting next to her and I recognized him immediately -- the only Kyu-dan kyudo master on planet. He’d seen me shoot once and encouraged me to keep working despite my sensei’s admonition that I’d reach the top of my possibility. 

 

“In all my years, that is the finest display of the transparent truth of the discipline I’ve ever witnessed. We are looking at a Ju-Dan Master of the arts, Bonnie,” he replied. 

 

“Jesus on a cracker.” I couldn’t breathe. “I’m no master; I just didn’t want to fucking die there.” 

 

“Maybe that’s the secret,” Bruce said. “You needed to do it, so you did..” 

 

I stared at the vid for a few more seconds then shook my head. “Yeah, well what I need right now is to get this done. Shut that off.”  
  


“Might be useful,” Sam said as we headed up the stairs. “Having a big star in our midst. If the Mohammad can’t get to the mountain …” 

 

“We bring the mountain to Mohammad,” Steve agreed. “Can you hack into a planetary broadcast, Tony?”

 

“Can I hack a broadcast? Steve darling, I can override all of ‘em.” Tony grinned. “Better get ready for your close up, Mr. Barton.” 

 

“Fucking hell,” I muttered as we climbed. “Is it too late to go back to the ship and get the hell out of here?” 

 

“Afraid it is,” Phil murmured from behind me. “But I do know a nice quiet planet where we can spend a week in an isolated cabin when this is all over.” 

 

“Hot tub too?” 

 

“Absolutely.”

 

Twenty minutes later, I pushed open the riveted metal main doors made of salvaged pieces from the original transport and walked into the plexi-roof covered rotunda with its mosaic floors and basalt columns like I had every right to be traversing the holy space. As usual, it was bustling, filled with all sorts moving to and fro, young and old, adjudicators and applicants, singles and in groups.  Took only four steps before someone noticed us -- me in the lead, the others fanned out behind me in a vee formation, our footfalls echoing as people stopped and stared. 

 

By the time I hit the first step of the grand staircase, the sweeping structure that floated suspended in air, guards were closing in on our flank.  We took the second sky bridge to the left, arriving at the Grand Council reception desk, centered in front of the entrance foyer. More guards came over the bridges that connected the mezzanine to the other buildings. When I stopped in front of the grey-haired woman who manned the desk, we were surrounded, dozens of guns aimed our way. 

 

“I’d like to speak to Alexander Pierce; I believe he’s expecting me.” I kept my voice calm but pitched it loud enough to be heard on the floor below. 

 

She raised an eyebrow and looked me over from head to toe, taking in my blood-smeared shirt, dirty smudges on my face, and scraped skin on my battered knuckles then, without so much as a hesitation, asked, “And to what is this pertaining?” 

 

“His attempt to interfere with witnesses and prejudice an on-going negotiation discovery process,” I answered. 

 

Murmurs rose from around the rotunda; a few of the guards glanced at their comrades. 

 

“One moment, please.” She touched her board and waited for someone to answer. “Janaka, I have a … what was your name again?” 

 

“Clint Barton,” I supplied. 

 

“A Clint Barton here for Councillor Pierce …” she looked at me “... yes, I see …” looked at the others behind me “ … Judicator Drew is here too …” she paused “ … seven, yes, that’s …” fingers tapped on the console “... tell him that’s not in my purview …” her face hardened “... No, I will not …” she huffed then turned her attention back to me, “the Councillor asks that you follow the guard to his chamber …” 

 

“No.” Step one, decided unanimously by all, was to stay in the public space. Harder to meet an accident when school kids on a day trip were hanging on our every word downstairs. “Pursuant to my adjudicator’s advice, I must decline. Pierce will have to hie himself out here if he wants to hear what I have to say.” 

 

She wrinkled her nose, clearly unhappy. “Janaka, he says … oh, good … yes, I agree but ….” 

 

A guard tilted his head then stepped forward. “By the order of the Chief of the Hawk Clan, I am required to arrest all of you on suspicion of terrorist activities …” 

 

“Not going to happen,” I interrupted. “Look, I know you have your orders and I’ve got no problem with those of you who are doing your jobs. But some among you who aren’t what they seem; the guard has been infiltrated with those loyal not to Danu but an off-world consortium. You might want to look around, see who you don’t recognize. The last guards who arrested me ended up dead at the end of guns just like those you have in your hands.” 

 

The murmurs grew louder; I noted which of the guards glanced around and the ones who stared daggers my way. At least eight were Pierce’s men.  Phil and the others fanned out behind me, shifting into defense stances, picking out the potential targets the same as me. 

 

“You’ll come with us.” One of the eight began to tighten his finger around the trigger of his laser. “Ex Filo’s have no rights here.” 

 

“Now, son,” the receptionist said, raising her voice. “If this young man is a negotiation witness, he’s protected no matter who he is. We’ll have this settled right as rain here in a minute, so you lower that gun.” 

 

I bit my tongue to keep from smiling; the woman was growing on me.. 

 

“We’re all witnesses,” I said. “That’s why Pierce wants us dead; we have incontestable proof of his perfidy.” Yeah, I liked to use big words sometimes just to confound people.

 

“Got him!” Tony crowed. “Docking bay 35, just filed a flight plan to … Asgard, of course. Pierce is running.” 

 

“Carol, you get that?” I asked. “Nail his ass down.” 

 

“Exits are covered; he’s going nowhere fast,” came the reply over the comm. 

 

“Was that Captain Danvers?” a guard asked. “If she’s … “

 

“You’ve got your orders,” one of the others barked. “Arrest them.” 

 

“Funny, isn’t it, how he wants you to do it?” I asked. “Wonder why he doesn’t do it himself?” 

 

“Alright, Barton, this has gone far enough.” Pierce paused just inside a hallway, framed by the shadows of the darker area beyond. “Casting aspersions on others to distract from your own crimes isn’t going to work. You enter the chamber and let the negotiation uncover the facts.” 

 

“Oh, like you did for the people of Ulaanbaatar when you helped my brother try to set off an explosion in the chambers? Or when you helped hide the torture and illegal experimentation committed by the Alliance on Barneo and at all those prisons?  Or when made a deal with General Thaddeus Ross, the butcher of Khoudami, to let him have the run of the planet in an effort to kill the man who created a cure for the green plague? Or maybe it was the sacred nature of the negotiations that led you to by into Johann Schmidt’s pure race theory, to try and cleanse the planet of dirty outbreds like me?  Is that why you didn’t care if Danueans died when you sent your men to gun us down earlier today?” 

 

“You’re delusional, Barton.” Pierce’s voice might have been calm and even, but his eyes were filled with hate. “I tried to help you, argued against your exile. It’s turned your mind, being out in the galaxy, cut off from your home.” 

 

That was his plan? Make everyone think I was crazy? Play on that old doubt if I belonged here? Well, Pierce had a big surprise coming because the barb didn’t stick; I wasn’t that uncertain boy anymore. “If you mean I’ve changed after being kicked out for doing the right thing, then I agree with you. I’ve learned some really important truths out there in the black, the most important of which is that there’s more than one path with more than one direction. The way that is _your_ way is not _my_ way.” 

 

His eyes widened in surprise; yeah, he hadn’t been expecting that. 

 

“Here’s the thing. Guys like you? They’re all over the galaxy. Ain’t nothing pure Danuean about wanting to destroy those who are different than you. Whether it’s Obediah Stane dealing weapons under the table or corporations like Willinno Tech creating and spreading the plague or Gynacon building genetically enhanced spies or Johan Schmidt fomenting chaos for his own pleasure, you’re just another in a long line of zealots who believe they can hoodwink the common folk and do what you want because you have money and power.”  

 

“If you have evidence of any wrongdoing on the part of those people, this is not the time or place; rules are rules, Barton, and you’re violating the sanctity of …” 

 

“Yeah, I am.” Every word was a revelation like I’d opened a door and let the universe have its say. “No more hiding, Pierce. This time, everyone’s going to know exactly what you and all the others have done. See, compassion is just as strong a foundation for this fucked up crazy paradox filled life and letting someone cause pain and anguish when I could stop ‘em is off the table.” I balled up my fist. “Killing innocent people is, and always will be, non-negotiable.” 

 

I slammed my fist into his smug bastard face and, hell yeah, it felt so damn good.  Even better was stepping back and letting him sputter in anger. Who knew one strike could be so fun? 

 

“I want this … this outbred mongrel arrested!” Pierce ordered. “You’ve had your say, Barton, but you’ve got nothing to back up your …” 

 

“What were you lying, asshole?” Tony tossed a screen into the air, a torrent of data streaming from one side to the other. “What exactly is phase one of Insight, a joint operation between … wow, okay … the Alliance, Willinno Tech, North Industries, and the Danuean Council to … holy shit, you’re planning on letting them test their super serums on Danueans with mixed parentage? What the fuck?” 

 

“Where did you … how …” Pierce’s face hardened and I suddenly remembered he had been one of the best jujitsu masters before he became a politician. “Illegally obtained data is inadmissible and it’s obvious those are fake documents.” 

 

“Date and time-coded, straight from your files,” Jessica said. “Going to be hard to argue against that.” 

 

“There will be no arguing. Take them,” Pierce ordered. 

 

I didn’t think, didn’t hesitate, just acted. Two darts in each hand flew before the sound of his voice began to fade, four more as he closed his mouth. Eight bodies tumbled to the floor before Pierce even registered his holster was empty and that his weapon was now in Natasha’s hands, aimed at his head

 

“Oh.” The woman peered over the edge of her desk. “I hope you didn’t kill them; that will be a mess of paperwork.” 

 

“Just a sleeping dart,” I told her. “Headaches all around, but no lasting damage.” 

 

“You’re nobody! I don’t know who you think you are, but I am the Chief of Hawk Clan and a Grand Councillor and you’ve made a serious mistake.” 

 

If that wasn’t the perfect set up, I don’t know what was. 

 

“I am Clinton Francis Barton, outbred son of Edith, ex-Haukkaselmä, Ju-in-Dan Kyudo Master, bearer of the Fidalis and Ex Filo. Bonded to Philip J. Coulson and Natasha Romanoff and member of the crew of the Artful Dodger, the best damn ship in the galaxy. I may not be important in the grand scheme of things, but I am going to bring your sins into the light where there’s an awful lot of nobodies who are going to decide what to do with you.”  I let silence reign for a full beat then turned to the others. “Did you get all that? Tell me you got that. No way I’m going to say it all again.” 

 

“Streaming loud and clear,” Tony answered. “On every damn vid screen on planet.”

 

“Data wave received and blasted out,” Skye’s voice rang out clearly. “Oh look, it’s trending.” 

 

“What the…” Pierce looked confused. “What have you done?” 

 

“More like what you’ve done,” Phil said. “Funny how you give the media a little bit of info and they want more.” 

 

“You can’t release … those are privileged …” Pierce protested. 

 

“What is it with these guys telling us what we can and can’t do?” Bucky asked. “You think they’d eventually learn.” 

 

“The sanctity of negotiations … this isn’t the Daneaun way,” Pierce told me. 

 

“It’s not,” I agreed. “But then I”m only half-Danuean, aren’t I?” 

 

I’d like to say I stayed calm and cool as Carol arrived with her strike team and took charge of the situation.  That I made quips and posed for pictures and was the hero of the hour. But the truth was, I started shaking as soon as she came in, the enormity of the last few hours hitting hard. I knew it wouldn’t be fast or easy in the aftermath and I was right; we spent the night in secure holding while people shifted through the information we’d dumped so unceremoniously into the public sphere. The whole time, someone was by my side, an arm around my shoulder or shared blanket to keep us warm; I had to blackmail Phil with promises of some very interesting sexual favors to get him to go to medical, and only then if Natasha was within arm’s reach while he was gone. Couldn’t sleep … I was way too wired, my brain running all the ways things could have gone wrong, hell, could still go wrong … but Bruce managed to help me fall into a light meditative state, enough to calm and begin getting a handle on things. 

 

Carol kept us updated and finally agreed to let Phil use his mad skills to help with the hunt for Barney and Ross, both of whom had either gone to ground or gotten the hell off-planet. Bruce was feeling responsible for them slipping away; me, well, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Barney even being alive and I was damn sure conflicted about his escape. In his own twisted way, he’d tried to look out for me … yeah, yeah, fucked up, I know, but still, Barney was Barney and he was the only blood relation I had left. Ross, on the other hand, well, tossing him out of a space lock might be too humane. Knowing the Alliance as I did now, I wouldn’t be surprised if he was quietly retired and allowed to live out his life on some posh world, kept under tight reins to keep him from talking. 

 

At some point the next morning, we were moved to separate quarters, a sign they were preparing to open negotiations; Bobbi was head-over-heels to help Bruce with his research, and Pepper showed up with a phalanx of the best legal minds in the galaxy in tow, or, as Tony called them, “the blood-sucking leeches who are about to earn their outrageous retainers.”  The patent for the cure was making its way through official channels, already filed and now awaiting review; she hoped they could begin production soon of a basic, low-cost preventative. The medicine for those already infected would, unfortunately, need more testing and take longer to get approval. 

 

Of Pierce, nothing was said, but the vid in the room was filled with parsing of every detail of his life. So many others who believed as he did were trying to crawl into the woodwork, to escape the spotlight we’d thrown their way. As depressing as it was to watch, the swift response of the rest of Danu gave me hope. We might talk and talk and talk, but when the time comes to act, we do it without hesitation. Pierce’s followers in the security forces were rounded up, given the option to either recant or go to jail, and were quickly dealt with. Two more Councillors resigned within hours of their message chains with Pierce going public. A tribunal was opened into the Ulaanbaatar mess and another to cull through the Bluecoat accord records for ‘misplaced’ data. 

 

None of that changed the fact that I was on borrowed time; despite Carol’s requests and Jessica’s motions, I was still an exile. Forty-two solar hours after I landed on Danu (to a hail of gunfire), I boarded a shuttle and headed back to the Dodger, the ship that had become my home …

  
  
  


 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clint's declaration of who he is at the end of the chapter has always been where I was headed, to bring him back to his home, standing in a sacred space and come to the understanding of where he fits in the universe was my endgame from the very beginning. 
> 
> I have outdone myself in mentions and allusions to other things in this chapter. It's like a greatest hits calvacade. 
> 
> Clint's "I mourned for you" with Barney is an echo of Thor's response to Loki in Avengers  
> Demented raccoon... hehehehe ... Rocket and the Winter Soldier's black guyliner  
> "Schmidt's chaotic circus" ... Clint and Barney running off to join Carson's  
> Clint kicking the chairs out of the way = CA:WS  
> Mindless, Monster -- Loki to Hulk in Avengers  
> "We're all monsters" is my attempt to fanfic away that terrible line Whedon gave Nat in AOU  
> All for one is the Three Musketeers's slogan  
> Stormin' the Castle is from Princess Bride. It's a common phrase around the Cake household.  
> Ju-Dan is the twelfth level of Kyudo and it's pretty mythical in status.  
> The guards who serve Pierce are HYDRA inside SHIELD in CA:WS  
> "What were you lying?" Tony asks Fury in Avengers  
> And of course the data dump and "It's Trending" are from CA:WS too. 
> 
> Did you think I'd forgotten Pepper? She was off gathering the lawyers and getting the cure ready. 
> 
> That's me at the reception desk -- I wrote myself into the story. I did work a reception desk job and I actually sent away the president of a rival company who was yelling at me and insisting I let him through. I'd like to think I'd be that calm in the face of the stupidly handsome group of people arriving at my desk. 
> 
> And, yep, the Dodger is the best damn ship in the galaxy!
> 
>  
> 
> So, um, remember how at the beginning Wanda says the data she received was corrupted and incomplete ....


	40. Chapter #20:  Flotsam and Jetsam and Family Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And so we come to the end of Clint's story and gain a glimpse into their future.

**_The Patriculus Monastery, Armagh, O4.2887.001_ **

 

Silk slid against my skin, calloused fingertips brushing as they tied an intricate knot. 

 

“Phil.” His name was sacred, the whole universe in his touch. 

 

“Shhhhh,” he murmured, breath stirring the hair on my arm before his lips pressed into my open palm.  “Soon.” 

 

Arousal thrummed through me, my cock hard and aching, only the slim wrap of rope at the base keeping my release at bay. For the last two days, Phil had been looping and tying the soft shibari, learning unique configurations to heighten our pleasure.  He picked it up so quickly, the twist of the wrist to tighten, how to unspool to the left and coil to the right. Tension to keep my arms behind me, my knees pulled in tight, my legs spread, but loose enough to breathe, expand my chest and exhale to relieve my clenched muscles.  We’d played with gags … I liked begging way too much for that … but the vibration of the smooth toy in my ass was perfection, balancing me on a knife’s edge of orgasm, almost falling over with every pulse.  

 

“Perfection.” Phil brushed over my tender nipples; I gasped and arched my back, the movement pulling the rope tighter around my balls and over the head of the toy, jostling it against my prostate. A flash of intense need circled up my spine, pushing my consciousness out of the top of my head. Stars burst into bright rays, planets wheeled around them, and I floated between the molecules until the euphoria ebbed and I slipped back into the bonds of flesh. “You should see yourself, the way your eyes dilate when you’re in that space, all blue and grey and green. Like a bright nebula or a sunrise on Fhloston.” 

 

Panting like I’d run a marathon, I sipped water from the straw he laid on my lips; I was covered in sweat, the sauna heat of the room cleansing me. Heat, yes … we both loved the feel of moist air, overheated and slickened skin, the hazy curtain of warmth that enveloped and relaxed us.  Of all the retreat’s specialized areas, this one was our favorite to try new things, a place where the only clothing we needed was each other’s bodies. 

 

“You could …” I swallowed a moan as he tapped a rhythm over my hip bone. “... come with …” That relentless touch stroked my pubic hair “... join me …” The edge of a nail ran along my length and circled the head “ … oh, oh, oh ...”  Pad of his index finger circled and followed the line of the vein underneath, over the rope around my balls, back, back until “… oh, god, please ...” it rocked the handle of the plug and I cried out as another wave engulfed me. 

 

I was gone longer this time, only circling back into my senses because of the throbbing urgency in my cock.  Maybe waiting for Phil to be ready for a third go-around was pushing too much. 

 

“I … please … “ I gazed up, let the desire speak for itself; Phil always knew what I needed, always understood. The longer we’re together, the less we have to say, the bond so strong emotions run both ways. 

 

“Yes, it’s time, isn't it?”  He picked up the zero-gravity controller and turned me upright before he lowered me to my knees. “Mouth first, I think, then ass to finish together. You do like it when you’re filled at both ends.” With a quick tug of the rope, he tilted my head to the best angle and then ran a hand through my wet hair.  “Let’s see if we can unlock the secrets of the universe, shall we?” 

 

I opened my mouth, widened my throat and took the whole of his cock as he slid in.  Always easy at first, that was Phil, the way he approached everything, cautious but in control, winding us up in a slow build rather than rushing to the pinnacle. His width stretched my lips and I fucking loved each thrust, the way he picked up speed and really started to use me for his own needs. I choked on him, swallowed him, sucked and licked and tasted him.  His action, my reaction, his desire, my body. A sacred act in a holy space. 

 

We went until my jaw was aching and Phil was breathing hard himself, his cock straining against the band of leather snapped around its base. Until I was seeing stars, both literally and figuratively, and his fingers were digging into my head as he held me steady.  Until he asked a fourth time how I was doing and I sobbed out how much I needed him to fuck me. Only then did he raise me up … floating weightless was damn convenient when it came to being manhandled into place … and flip me over, so blood rushed to my head and made my ears buzz.  One knot loosened and he pulled out the plug so he could push steadily in my already sloppy and stretched hole. 

 

“So good,” Phil leaned over to say in my ear. “God, I love you so much.” 

 

“I …” he pulled out and thrust back in, knocking the breath from my throat “... I love …” he sank his fingers into my skin and held me steady as he thrust again “... love you …” harder and harder “ … you more …”  I moaned at the feeling, all tied up with no other connection but Phil’s hands and the steady pounding of his cock “... more than …” he was in me and he was me and he was “... than anything …” it was simple, the answer to the most infinite of mystery “... anything else …”

 

 _But when I hold you I hold everything that is -- sand, time, the tree of the rain, everything is alive so that I can be alive: without moving I can see it all: in your life, I see everything that lives_.

 

“Everything that is,” I whispered. “Come with me.”

 

He freed our cocks and we came, spilling over as one, him into me, me under his hand. My sight went white, but I didn’t need it to feel Phil’s spark in my chest, his love settling even deeper into the fiber of my being; I came to slowly as my bonds loosened and Phil pulled me close, his arms around me, moving us to the pillow covered bench. We lay, sated and full, and time didn’t matter. 

 

“Okay, Tony might have been right,” Phil admitted once we’d caught our breaths. “I needed to unwind a bit.” 

 

“Mmmm.” I traced the line of scar tissue on his chest. “The tantric teachings are pretty amazing; I’m looking forward to trying nyotaimori tomorrow. The sushi here is amazing.” 

 

That made Phil smile. “ **_You_ ** are amazing. Still so uninhibited after everything.” 

 

“Well, you can take me off Danu, but …” I grinned. “You think Mack and Yo-Yo are enjoying their workshop?” 

 

“They’re getting a full night's sleep while her mom takes care of the baby, so yes” Phil’s eyelids drooped.  “Saw Sam yesterday; he and Bucky decided on advanced qi and ching manipulation for their last full session.”

 

“Oh, that was a good one; really helped my back after trying that kama sutra position.” I snuggled closer and pressed my lips to his -- nothing better than post-coital bliss and a lingering kiss. “How about a nap before dinner?” 

  
  


**_Riviera 03.2890.030_ **

 

Even as the third moon rose, the secondary party was still going strong; we’d retired to the hotel suite, just the family and closest friends. How Phil had managed to pull off a low-key wedding despite the pressure to go big or go home … Tony …  was a testament to his handler skills being next to none. The ceremony had been lovely, Skye beautiful in her simple red dress, and the formal reception a buffet and her favorite local band for dancing. Even now, she was glowing with happiness, curled up next to Robbie, holding hands with matching rings.  

 

“Here.” I held out a glass of Saurian brandy to Bobbi. “This is better than anything you have on Danu.” 

 

She and Bruce had arrived just this morning, a last minute consult with Galactic Disease Control holding up their departure.  I was still marveling that the Council not only blessed their working together, but gave Bruce a permanent visa to come and go as needed.  

 

She shook her head. “Thanks, but I have to pass. I trust your judgment.”

 

“What?” Bobbi never turned down excellent whiskey; something had to be wrong. “Are you sick? Did something happen? Wait, are you infected?  After the scare on Alfheim, you said you’d be more careful …” 

 

“Clint, oh my God, slow down.  I’m fine, better than fine.” She laughed. “I’m pregnant.” 

 

“You’re ... “ I couldn’t wrap my brain around the concept. “A baby? You’re going to have a baby? I thought you … I mean, what about … does he know?” 

 

She lightly smacked the back of my head. “Of course Bruce knows; he’s the father after all.” 

 

“Oh.” Yeah, oh; wow, this was coming out of the blue. “What about Bruce’s mutation? Will that …” 

 

“Betty figured out how to modify the nucleus shell so we could control the combination.  Kid’ll be strong as hell but not turn green.” She rubbed a hand over her belly. “Amelia’s going to kick ass.” 

 

“A girl?” I felt a grin spread across my face. “You as a mom?  Good thing Bruce’ll be around; he can be the voice of reason.” 

 

“I don’t know about that.” Bruce slipped an arm around Bobbi’s waist and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Dealing with all the outbred bias is going to try my patience.” 

 

“If it gets bad, I’ll come back and bash some sense into people,” I promised. “That’s what cool uncles do, after all.” 

 

“Uncle?” Phil appeared next to me, Melinda and Pepper at his elbow. “Whose uncle?” 

 

“Bruce and Bobbi are having a baby,” I told them. “A girl.” 

 

“Oh!” Pepper’s eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful news!” 

 

“Actually, we want to talk to you about some legal issues,” Bruce replied to her. “We’ll need the same sovereignty declarations for her that we drew up for me to keep the government and military at bay. If you can help …” 

 

“Of course.” Pepper opened a comm screen. “If we call right now, we can catch …” 

 

They walked off together, Bobbi winking at me over her shoulder. I pitied anyone who tried to file a proprietal claim on that kid; they’d have to fight the whole of the Danu military if they messed with a citizen, born or unborn. After Carol and her strike force kicked their ass, they’d have to contend with Tony and Steve and Sam and Bucky and me and Natasha, and, if they were still standing, the baddest of us all, one Phil Coulson. 

 

“You’ve got that look in your eye,” Phil said. 

 

I leered at him, roved from his toes to the top of his head. “Just thinking of how sexy you are when you go all protective of someone you love..” 

 

“Now, now, boys, you’re going to burn the place down with those stares.” Mel slipped her arm through mine. “Save it for later; I’ve got plans.” 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” I answered as she drew me along; I held my hand out and Phil took it, letting himself be dragged with us. “I can’t wait.” 

  
  
  


**_Pira’e, Polynesian Archipelago_ ** , **_O9.2890.021_ ** 

 

Tony got us in, J.A.R.V.I.S. unlocking the doors and taking their security off-line.  We couldn’t wait any longer not after McMasters finagled his release from prison; first thing the bastard did was go back to the Gynacon facility to see what he could salvage.  So we stormed the place, no holds barred, kicking in the doors with the sole purpose of burning it down to the ground. 

 

What we found was beyond anything I could have imagined; five kids, two girls and three boys, ranging in ages from 6 months to seven-years-old, living in horrible conditions. They wore disposable hospital gowns, had nothing, no toys, no other clothes, no blankets, not even a hairbrush.  Big eyes stared up at us as we entered the sterile room where they were kept; the oldest boy and girl took a protective stance and it took far too long to make them understand we weren’t going to hurt them. Sam broke the impasse; he dropped to his knees and talked quietly until a toddler, no more than four, took his hand.  We scooped them up and ran for the ship, taking off just moments before Tony blew the place to hell. 

 

It was elbow-to-elbow onboard with scared and skittish kids hiding in corners and under the stairs. Sam’s little girl hadn’t let go, sitting in his lamp as he made the hyperjump; Natasha cuddled one of the babies, the boy staring up at her with big brown eyes. The older boy noted every weapon while the older girl checked on them, tapping gently on the shoulder as she went from one to the next. 

 

We fed them, Tony passing out his prized mango juice, watered down and in small batches, as Steve made powdered eggs and toast.  Bruce ran as many non-invasive scans as he could; just passing the medbay made them go rigid with fear. Phil got on the comms with Piper to talk about legalities and other details. Technically, we were kidnappers, but none of us cared; we pushed the anger away as we wrapped the kids up and tried to calm their fears. 

 

Sam’s girl … they didn’t have names, just numbers and hell if we were going to call them by some scientific designation … fell asleep in Bucky’s arms after Sam brushed and braided her hair, telling her stories about his sisters the whole time.  I found Natasha on the couch, feeding her boy with an improvised bottle Tony had made. Pacing the length of the common room and back, Steve was bouncing the one-year-old, a patch of dark hair sticking out of the shirt he was swaddled in.  

 

I made my way to the cargo bay and, sure enough, the two older ones were side-by-side on the stairs, on guard for any sound of distress.  Wasn’t sure what to say, but I sat with them anyway, more for the company than anything else. A long silence passed before the girl spoke. 

 

“What’s going to happen now?” she asked. 

 

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Find you a home, parents who’ll take care of you.” 

 

“We want to stay together,” the boy said. “We’re family … Three, Four, and Five need us.” 

 

“Look, kid, we’ll do the best we can, okay? But it depends …” 

 

“Because we’re different, right? They made us and we’re not like others.” The girl stared at me. “We’re instab …” 

 

“Unstable, we’re dangerous,” the boy finished. “They wanted us to do bad things.” 

 

“Yes, that’s what they wanted,” Natasha said, emerging onto the walkway, patting the baby on his back. “But they can’t hurt you, not anymore. I give you my word.” 

 

Their eyes widened. “You’re like us,” the boy said. “Different.”

 

“I am. So are most of the people on this ship,” she explained. “You’ll be safe here.” 

 

The baby burped loudly and the girl giggled.

 

“Two,” the boy warned. “We can’t trust them. Not yet.” 

 

“Trust takes time,” I agreed. “First, though, you need names, real names.  Did they call you anything but One?” 

 

He thought about it. “They told me I was the leader of the cohort operational organization pod, the  C.O.O.P.” 

 

“Cooper it is, then.” 

  
  
  
  
  


_AUTHOR’S NOTE: Because of the condition of the data stream, all that remains are degraded partial entries from years later, a few snapshots of Clint’s life after the events on Danu. I’ve presented as much of these snippets as I could salvage. Nothing remains of the story of the negotiations themselves, but these three moments offer threads to begin filling out the picture._

 

_The Patriculus Monastery on Armagh was well-known for its spa and weeklong seminars even before Malachy became the Prior in 2964. SI Corporation records note a number of visits from Starks over the centuries including Tony; it’s a safe assumption that Clint could have visited with Tony during their lifetime. The log of this entry is time-stamped in 2887, three years after the events on Danu. Clint would have been 31-years-old._

 

_The wedding of Skye and Roberto Reyes in 2890 is notable for two reasons. First, Roberto Reyes is credited with the creation of the GhostRider drive and simulacra-prosthetic line that would revolutionize the field.  In their industry bio, GhostRider Charger Company, G.R.C.C., still tells the story of an Alliance raid gone wrong that left the founder’s brother a paraplegic, and how he made it his life’s work to fight against discrimination of the disabled.  G.R.C.C. became a wholly-owned subsidiary of SI Corporation until it was sold back to the Reyes family in 3267. A Reyes currently serves as C.E.O. Robbie’s marriage to Skye would bring him into Tony Stark’s orbit at a critical point in his life._

 

_Second, it answers the question of the parentage of Amelia Banner, the pioneer of astrogenetics and bioliminal mutation.  Her work in the early 30th Century led directly to hyper radiological therapy, a game-changer in cancer treatments. Science historian Pietro Maximoff has long held that Amelia was not the daughter of Bruce Banner; now we know she was and her mother was Dr. Bobbi Morse of Danu. That’s one for me, brother dear._

 

_But it’s the five recovered children from the Gynacon facility that turned out to be the path to the impact of Clint Barton’s story._

 

_The easiest to trace was James Philip Rogers Stark; the heritage of Tony Stark’s two children is common knowledge, verified by family historian James Rhodes, who wrote extensively about James and his sister, Maria Sarah Rogers Stark, the biological daughter of both Tony and Steve.  It is James’ son Samuel who was the father of Morgan; from Morgan and her partnership with Shuri come the current head of the Rogers Stark Scientific Foundation and generations of Wakandan royalty._

 

_Sarah Stark married Rebecca Josephine Wilson-Barnes, the daughter of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson; generations later their descendant, Elijah “Eli”  James Buchanan Bradley, would be awarded the Galactic Star of valor for his actions in the Chitauri War. He went on to become a long-serving senator in the G.C. and a hero of the century._

 

_Nathaniel Clinton Rushman went to Culver University where he met Franklin Richards, son of Reed and Sue Richards.  Together, the two men shaped the 30th Century with their revolutionary ideas about the physics of time travel and multiple dimensions.  Their descendant, Nathaniel Marcus John Richards, is the current head of the Fantastic Foundation and a Nobel prize-winning professor of generational mathematics and quasi-physics at Kang College on Titan._

 

_Clint and Phil adopted two children, Cooper Anthony Barton-Coulson and Lila Carol Barton-Coulson._

 

 _Cooper followed in Phil’s footsteps, enlisting in the newly reformed Space Guard where he met and married a young woman by the name of Kitra Nadira Lang.  Their descendant, Cassandra Barton Lang, would fight alongside Eli Bradley against the Chitauri; after she would write a memoir entitled_ Ant, Boot: A Tale of the Chitauri War _that is considered one of the best war histories of all time.  It is her carefully researched family trees that provide the connections between Clint’s generation and hers._

 

_A search for Lila Barton-Coulson turns up no records, but, thankfully, Lang makes note of her in her book.  Of Grandma Lila, Cassie writes, “The stories were passed down, mother-to-daughter, of the woman whose arms were wide enough and love deep enough for all the lost souls. Her whole life was spent rescuing children, finding them homes, building families through tireless effort and an endless supply of positivity in the face of the hatred and evil humans could offer.  She had four kids of her own, but nurtured countless others who passed through her home and her heart.”_

 

_According to Lang, Lila’s second daughter, Frankie, went on to marry a man by the name of Walter Bishop; his fledgling business would barely support the family during his lifetime, but his daughter would shepherd it onto the Galactic 500 lists by the start of the next century. Bishop Financial would grow to become the third-largest bank in the galaxy by the time Walter Bishop the III’s only daughter, Katherine Rachel,  was born in 3280._

 

_Yes, that’s Kate Bishop, call sign Hawkeye, the hero of New Los Angeles, and 22nd President of the G. C. She is a direct descendant of the girl that Clint and Phil rescued from Gynacon and raised as their own._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the beginning, I knew the conclusion would be fragmented and open-ended. The whole conceit of Wanda Maximoff writing the story from some reconstructed personal journals meant we'd end up here. I also knew I wanted to have my cake and eat it to ... a happy ending that's not a happy ending. 
> 
> These are the last bits of Clint's voice ... next is Wanda's afterword that attempts to put some closure on what she sees as the greater theme of the story. And even writing that sounds so strange to me, the way Wanda has become a character of her own in this story (I had to slip a reference to Pietro in here) and that I think of her as getting to have her say before I close the book on this distance galaxy far, far away ...
> 
> Oh, yeah, I also knew about the kids from the beginning too ... sooooooo many references here. 
> 
> Mac and Yo&Yo/Elena make a reappearance here; why not have a baby and be living happily ever after?
> 
> Robbie Reyes is one of the characters who's been Ghost Rider, most recently in A.O.S. where he interacted with Skye/Daisy; they're a pretty popular 'ship. That's his backstory about his brother being injured, thus Robbie takes on the mantle of the Ghost Rider. 
> 
> I could have gone with Bruce and Betty, but Betty marries Glen Talbot in the comics (Talbot's also on A.O.S.) and I need their kids for the afterword, so it's Bobbi and Bruce who, surprisingly, make an excellent couple, if I do say so myself. Also lets me show that Danu has learned a lesson too. 
> 
> Couldn't forget Nat's backstory and the genetically grown kids at Gynacon! For all you eagle-eyed comic fans out there, the descendants of our heroes are all heroes in their own right ... the Young Avengers! Eli Bradley is Patriot, the grandson of one of the men who carried the mantle of Captain America in a limited run. Cassie Lang is Stature, Scott Lang/Antman's daughter. Nate Richards is Iron Lad who is actually Kang the Conqueror who traveled back in time to stop himself from being a villain ... convenient that Clint's littlest in the MCU is Nathaniel and named after Natasha, eh? And, of course, Kate Bishop, the other Hawkeye has to be related to Clint & Phil! 
> 
> Oh, nyotaimori is the practice of serving sushi on a naked body ... Clint's going to love it.
> 
> Hold on ... just a bit more ....


	41. Author's Afterword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after ... or at least as much as Wanda can figure out ... plus some conjecture about the nature of good versus evil.

**AUTHOR’S AFTERWORD**

 

If this were a fictional tale, there’d be another few chapters, tying all the loose ends together into a neat little bow. The villains of the piece would be hied off to jail and the heroes living happily ever after without threat or danger. 

 

But it’s not.

 

Clint’s story reminds us that there are no pat endings; good people get hurt and bad ones escape punishment. 

 

Here’s what I can verify:

 

  * Obediah Stane was convicted and sent to prison where he died a few years later; he was retroactively removed from the board of Stark Industries and his name stricken from all documents and buildings. His only legacy is the hastening of the shift from military contractor to focus on clean energy and arc reactor technology, a change Tony and some on the board had been pushing towards for years. The realignment and galactic incorporation cemented SI’s reputation as forward-thinking; under Pepper Potts’ leadership, it became a behemoth of the industry and would stay that way for over 250 years.
  * Ian McMasters was released from prison and did attempt to restart his genetic experimentation to no avail. Most scholars posit that, after his conviction and prison sentence, his associates and partners pulled out, leaving him to the mercy of those seeking justice. Clint and his friends probably hastened that end. He disappeared and is thought to have lived out his life in poverty.
  * General Thaddeus Ross retired from the military in 2884. According to his granddaughter’s memoir, he was given his full pension and an honorable discharge. Whatever the outcome of the negotiations, Ross’s power quickly faded; he died in relative obscurity in 2891.  Betty Ross continued to work on a plague cure; she married Senator Glen Talbot in 2889 and they had three children.
  * The Alliance military was downsized in 2893-2897; galactic policing powers were transferred to the Space Guard which was substantially reformed. A number of Alliance people were given early retirements and/or had their opt-out clauses activated, but even more made the shift from soldiers to security officers. The change was highly unpopular in the inner core who labeled the move a public relations purge but supported by the outer rim colonies who were eager to man their own stations.
  * Trials for a preventative vaccine against the green plague began in 7.2884; the first full protocol runs were tested in 12.2884. Eradicating the disease would take almost 30 years; pockets of resistance remained in some of the isolationist colonies until well into the 90s and even the early 2900s.  By 2895, a regime of three drugs was developed that mitigated the worst of the symptoms and allowed those infected to live a relatively healthy life. Unfortunately, over 2.4 million were infected and ultimately died while the Alliance and Willinno Tech fought to keep their part in the creation of the disease a secret.
  * The Williams family filed for bankruptcy in 2888; Willinno Tech was sold to Hammer Industries and later consumed into K’lun Lun Consortium, the same group that bought Mandarin Industries.
  * The Fourth Asgardian Civil War ended in 2887 with King Odin restored to the throne. Hela and her allies were convicted of treason and sentenced to life in prison. Just four years later, Odin died and Thor became the fourth of that name to sit on the throne. He ruled for 42 years and was succeeded by Loki’s eldest son, Vali. 



 

As to the others ...

 

What happened to Alexander Pierce disappeared with the destruction of Danu. Considering the granting of a permanent visa for Bruce Banner and the fact that his daughter was allowed to lecture at Oghma as well as Culver and the newly minted Scientific Foundation on Callisto, Pierce’s desire to expel outbred Danueans would seem to have fallen out-of-favor. We can only hope this signals his crimes were dealt with by the Council.

 

Barney Barton’s fate is unknown.

 

Werner Johann von Strucker aka Johann Schmidt aka Red Skull, cousin of U.E.G. President Wilhelm Schmidt, remains an enigma.

 

We can, however, track his parents and Neudeutsch Aryan Enclave on Mars. After the scandal in 2870, Baron Strucker and Dorcas Schmidt kept a low profile for the next decades until Baron passed away in 2895.  Dorcas emerged as a revitalized leader, pushing aside what she called her husband’s “outdated policies” and moving into a “brighter millennium.”  All references to Pure Earth ideology were dropped from the group’s mission statement, and she focused instead on outreach and helping those less fortunate. She became the face of the movement until she retired at the age of 94 in 2924; her daughter, Achsah, continued to take the Enclave in the same direction.

 

At the same time, the name Achsah Strucker appears on the Board of Directors of Hammer Industries; by 2947, the Enclave drops the world Aryan from its name and incorporates as NeuDeutsch Mars for a short span of 22 years.  NeuDeutsch Mars is sold in 2969 to a nebulous company called Red Planet Holding and becomes NeuMars Limited until it is transferred again in 2981. What follows is the changing of hands and a series of name changes until 3076 when it is consumed by the K’Lun Lun corporation.  A not uncommon history for smaller businesses attempting to be successful upon a galactic scale, but it is the incestuous nature of the people occupying the top positions that give pause. 

 

My research into Obediah Stane revealed his connection with the Galactic Industrial Consortium (G.I.C.); early records show that Baron Strucker and ex-President Wilhelm Schmidt were involved in the fledgling attempt to bring together disparate entities under one umbrella. Thaddeus Ross’s name also turns up, as does later his grandson, Bertram Ross Talbot, and Justin Hammer’s daughter, Milicic, who married Daniel Whitehead, a scion of the third wealthiest family in the galaxy.  It is G.I.C. where the Williams family reconstitutes their business after emerging from chapter 11 bankruptcy; over the next few generations, the four names -- Strucker, Schmidt, Talbot, and Whitehead -- take the head seats of the biggest corporations including Hammer, the ever-evolving Neudeutsch Mars, and even SI.  As I’ve argued in _The House of M_ , the rise of Rican Howard Whitehead Stark to the CEO position began the twilight of the once-dominant business.  His policies of cutting the bottom line and focusing on production rather than research signaled a sea change for the company that Howard Stark, however flawed a man he might have been, had used to push the boundaries of technology. 

 

During the Ten Rings War, G.I.C. rose to the mainstream, the business partners landing lucrative governmental and military contracts while the non-profit arm provided aid to refugees and devastated colonies.  As U.E.G. President Josea Manuel Donalsin said at the time, “The consortium model is more flexible, allowed for a swifter response to victims’ needs; it behooves us to think beyond old structures to new ways of moving forward.”  After the Kree War forty years later, the first Colonial Representative Collective candidate, backed by G.I.C.’s political action committee, won a seat in the U.E.G. Parliament;  Glenda Talbot Schmidt was a staunch conservative who favored a less centralized government and fewer regulations on businesses.

 

It’s worth noting that lineage means little when it comes to predicting outcomes. Dr. Elizabeth Ross was a very different person than her father. Barney and Clint Barton chose two different paths.  As O’lazi Matu Lokison, the current president of the Galactic Consortium, is fond of saying, “We are more than the sum of our parts; the sins of our forebears are not ours to carry.”  Just because the current head of the K’lun Lun is a Whitehead and the CFO is a Strucker tells us nothing more than the fact that the upper echelons of the classes have and will always continue to be an insular club with a few families holding a majority of the wealth and power. What is fascinating is the long reach of the tentacles in today’s politics of those who chased Clint Barton across the galaxy.

 

As Clint’s story comes to an open-ended conclusion, we can take away one thing:  the law of entropy applies to human nature. Every so often, good people are asked to step forward and fight the creeping darkness that comes in so many forms, from a Kree war battalion on the doorstep to cutting corners on safety to make more money.  They take a stand … draw a line like those Danueans of old … and push back; they die a hero or survive to fade away into memory, waiting until we need them again.

 

But the darkness never goes away; today we see groups like the Foundation Association for Independent Reform and a resurgence Peterson’s teachings in the Pure Galaxy Movement with very old ideas cloaked in new rhetoric, pushing an agenda of isolationism and colonial cleansing. We are left to wonder if the cycle of chaos has begun again, if “this rough beast, its hour come round at last, slouches towards Bethlehem to be born.”[i]

 

If Clint Barton’s life offers anything for modern times, it’s the realization that the path that is the path is not the path … we may be told who to be and what’s acceptable, whom we should love and what we shouldn’t do, but the universe is infinite and so too are the ways open to us. As a very wise man once said, “ it is not our part to master all the tides of the world, but to do what is in us for the succor of those years wherein we are set, uprooting the evil in the fields that we know, so that those who live after may have clean earth to till. What weather they shall have is not ours to rule.”[ii]  Ours is but to decide what to do with the time we’ve been given.

 

[i][i] “The Second Coming” An unattributed poem from _The Danu_ _Psalter: A History of the Tuatha Dé Danann_

[ii] The Grey Pilgrim in “The Last Debate” from oral tradition, written down by Snorri Snorlison in his collection of favorite tales entitled _The Road Goes Ever On and On_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, I'm ... yeah ... elated and sad and exhausted at the same time. This has been one of the best experiences writing I've ever had. I actually find myself wanting to dive back into some of my other in-depth AUs and get back to plotting intricate stories again. I honestly never expected to get so into this story as I have. I had to stop myself from making Wanda's works cited page, damn it! :)
> 
> I've drawn some big lines here, about how evil never goes away, just gets pushed back into the shadows for a while. I'm heavily influenced by J. R. R., whom I quoted there at the end, and the concept that the sun is always shining behind the clouds ... look for the light of my coming on the third day is one my mantras to keep going in dark times. We end in paradox; the sun will shine through, but there's always a rough beast slouching its way to be born (William Butler Yeats). 
> 
> I really, really hope you've enjoyed this or that I've managed to give you a distraction for a bit. Thanks so much to all of you who've commented and read along.


	42. The Great Black Distance: A Timeline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm that way and make timelines for fictional universes. 
> 
> Here you go!

  |   | **THE GREAT BLACK DISTANCE** |    
---|---|---|---  
  |   | **HISTORICAL TIMELINE** |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
2450-3000 |   | Universal Migration & Colonization from Original Prime |    
06.2441.011 |   | U.E.G. establishes the Outward Bound Population Promise |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 26TH CENTURY** |    
15.2512.114 |   | Tragedy of Marrakesh 12 |    
07.2589.121 |   | U.E.G passes the New Cultural Norms Act |    
11.2590.002 |   | Pure Earth Movement officially files for Non-Geo Status |    
02.2591.05 |   | Rainbow Planetside's first supported colonization ship launches |    
14.2594.030 |   | **Ship carrying settlers to Altair 4 crashes** |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 27TH & 28TH CENTURY** |    
07.2602.110 |   | **Danu officially recognized as a colony** |    
10.2791.020 |   | Town of Khodaumoi founded on Goryeo Geunseui by repatriated descendents of the Second Korean Civil War |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 29TH CENTURY** |    
03.2320.030 |   | Wilhelm Alfred Martin Schmidt is born on Callisto |    
  
03.2827.004-14

|   | Board of Colonial Safety & Concerns Vs. Pase & Pase Company Negotiations |    
2848-2849 |   | Worker's Union Strikes |    
03.2843.020 |   | Wendell & Heather Rand declared dead |    
09.2845.009 |   | Werner Johann Von Strucker (Johann Schmidt, Red Skull) born on Mars |    
12.2847.003 |   | Hammer/Rand IO 1800 recalled |    
06.2848.021 |   | Last Hammer/Rand IO 1800 produced |    
07.2849.008 |   | _**Philip J. Coulson is born at Willamette Clearance**_ |    
2852-2867 |   | Rising Tide Movement at its pinnacle |    
05.2852.029 |   | Anthony Stark is born on Original Prime |    
10.2852.008 |   | Ian McMaster's, CEO of Gynacon, found guilty of ethical and safety violations |    
12.2852.018 |   | Bruce Banner is born in Dayton Springs on Ohi:Yo Seneca |    
03.2856.010 |   | James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes is born on New Brooklyn |    
05.2856.018 |   | _**Clint Barton is born on Danu**_ |    
07.2856.004 |   | Steve Rogers is born on New Brooklyn |    
09.2856.023 |   | Sam Wilson is born on Titan |    
11.2858.022 |   | Natasha Romanoff is born at Peterhoff Outpost |    
07.2873.025 |   | Founding of the Neudeutsch Aryan Enclave on Mars by Baron Strucker and Dorcas Schmidt |    
09.2875.004 |   | Wilhelm Schmidt elected President of the U.E.G. |    
2876 - 2878 |   | **Bluecoat Rebellion/colonial War of Independence** |    
12.2875.030 |   | Freedom Protests begin at Culver City University on Culver |    
01.2876.008 |   | Panheim riot; twenty-three shot by Alliance forces |    
  |   | _**Phil Coulson dies, is resuscitated, and convalesces in Tahiti**_ |    
03.2876.012 |   | Battle of Kodiak Gap |    
03.2877.001 |   | Battle of Port Athans on Hellini |    
2877-2884 |   | Obediah Stane serves on Board of Galactic Industrial Consortium |    
04.2877.014 |   | Operation Snakehead Launched by Alliance |    
14.2877.022 |   | **Khodaumoi Massacre** |    
09.2878.017 |   | **Battle at the Valley of Sedon on New Belgrave** |    
09.2878.019 |   | President Schmidt's "Court of History" Speech |    
12.2878.013 |   | Bluecoat/Alliance Armistice Negotiations begin, ceasefire signed |    
13.2879.012 |   | Printer's Galactic Associates Vs. The Benedictine Monastery on Crashiff |    
10.2880.05 |   | I **ndependence Concord signed, officially ending the War** |    
10.2880.010 |   | **Rescue at Barneo Base; prisoners freed** |    
01.2881.017 |   | Khodaumoi Hearings convened |    
05.2881.08 |   | Khodaumoi Hearings end with conviction of Simpson and Blonsky |    
04.2882.016 |   | Ulaanbaatar Vs. Mandarin Negotiation begins |    
07.2882.023 |   | _**Clint Barton exiled from Danu**_ |    
12.2882.003 |   | First violent outbreak of Green Plague at Taehragheh on Culver |    
11.2884.012 |   | Plague riot at Outpost 42 |    
02.2884.004 |   | Bruce Banner injects himself with Plague serum |    
04.2884.026 |   | Clint meets Bruce & Natasha on New Amsterdam |    
04.2884.027 |   | Clint, Bruce, Natasha leave New Amsterdam on the Artful Dodger, manned by Captain Steve Rogers and EXO James "Bucky" Barnes |    
05.2884.001 |   | _**Clint meets Phil Coulson on Riviera**_ |    
05.2884.006 |   | The Artful Dodger lands on Carson's Corners; Sam Wilson joins the crew |    
05.2884.013 |   | Tony Stark meets the crew on Callisto |    
05.2884.014 |   | Alliance Federation, the U.E.G., Willinno Tech Corporation, Gynacon Inc, North Industries, and Stark Industries Vs. Dr. Bruce Banner Negotiations begin (in G.C. reckoning) |    
05.2884.022 |   | Fourth Asgardian Civil War begins |    
05.2884.027 |   | Arrest of Obediah Stane, CEO of Stark Industries |    
07.2884.03 |   | First trials of Plague Vaccine begin |    
12\. 2884.025 |   | Full vaccination protocol begins |    
01\. 2887.018 |   | End of Fourth Asgardian Civil War |    
2888-2898 |   | Virginia Potts serves as CEO of Stark Industries |    
08.2888.009 |   | Williams family files bankruptcy; Willinno Tech is sold to Hammer Industries |    
12.2889.003 |   | Elizabeth Ross marries Glen Talbot |    
03.2890.030 |   | Skye marries Roberto Reyes on Riviera |    
O9.2890.021 |   | Destruction of the Gynacon facility in Pira’e on Tahiti Colony |    
12\. 2890.001 |   | Birth of Amelia Banner |    
06.2891.031 |   | Death of General Thaddeus Ross |    
08.2891.008 |   | Coronation of King Thor IV of Asgard |    
2893-2897 |   | Alliance Military restructure and Space Guard expanded |    
02.2894.007 |   | Birth of Maria Sarah Rogers Stark |    
11.2895.009 |   | Drug Regime for infected plague victims first prescribed |    
10.2899.023 |   | ARC Ship Testing by Tony Stark & Clint Barton |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 30TH CENTURY** |    
10.2904.030 |   |  _The Plague Years: The Collected Works of Dide Quiganag_ published |    
14.2912.013 |   | Simpson recants his testimony in the Khadoumoi hearings; others begin to come forward with their accounts |    
02.2913.018 |   | Military tribunal reverses dishonorable discharges for original whistleblowers in Khadoumoi Massacre |    
03.2933.003 |   | Thor IV dies; Vali crowned King of Asgard |    
09.2947.001 |   | K'lun Lun Consortium buys Mandarin Industries |    
02.2970. 013 |   |  _Let Him Kiss Me with Her Mouth: The Teachings of Malachy of Armagh_ published |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 31ST CENTURY** |    
10.3042.018 |   | K'lun Lun Consortium buys Hammer Industries |    
3063 - 3104 |   | Height of Starkian Humor during the Fin de Siecle farce & fableau resurgence |    
11.3071.022 |   | first translation of _The Road Goes Ever On and On_ by Snorri Snorlison published |    
09.3082.019 |   | Joe Orten's _Hyperspace & Wormholes_ premieres on New Broadway at the Jacobs Theatre |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 32ND CENTURY** |    
3120 - 3121 |   | **10 Rings War** |    
08.3121.012 |   | Galactic Trials for War Crimes in 10 Rings War begin |    
3162 - 3173 |   | **Kree War** |    
12.3173.004 |   | _**Battle of the Line**_ |    
01.3174.005 |   | Morgan Stark flies her IO 1782 Mark 3 (Betsy) through Kree lines |    
04.3178.004 |   | Pym Hearings on the Kree War Begin |    
10.3178.029 |   | Patent is granted to Morgan Stark for the Subspace Curvature Overlay Trans Teleportalizer Yield (S.C.O.T.T.Y.) system |    
09.3179.012 |   | Colonial Representative Collective gain majority in U.E.G. Parliament |    
14.3187.028 |   | Wizards of the Galaxy release edition 24 of _Dungeons, Space & Monsters_ |    
  |   |   |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 33RD CENTURY** |    
05.3204.016 |   | Colonial Representative Constitution signed; Galactic Consortium (G.C.) replaces the U.E.G. |    
3200 - 3242 |   | G.C. Austerity Measures instituted; purging of hard copies and shift to DI Digital Network |    
05.3282.009 |   |  _The Labor of Lerna_ , #9 in the Alliance Falls Series by Ed Brubaker and Brian Michael Bendis is published |    
11.3279.004 |   | Birth of Elijah "Eli" James Buchanan Bradley |    
14.3280.005 |   | Birth of Katherine Bishop |    
04.3282.017 |   | Birth of Cassandra Barton Lang |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 34TH CENTURY** |    
3302 - 3304 |   | **Chitauri War** |    
09.3345.021 |   | Katherine Bishop elected President of the Galactic Consortium |    
10.3354.028 |   |  _The Mountains of Memory_ , Book IV of the Solar Sorcerer Series, by Lloyd Wong |    
3362 - 3305 |   | Galactic Queer Criticism as posited by Dr. Wilifred Manigrew's subversion Danuean pansexual performance and Rudoyf Kepliner's "The Penis is My Hammer" |    
01.3342.004 |   |  _Six Legged Horses and Gender Bending Brides: Pyymr's Hall and Hammer_ by Dr. Brunhilde Valkyrie is published; beginning of the Sexual Deconstruction School of Gender Thero |    
  |   |   |    
  |   | **THE 35TH CENTURY** |    
12.3422.030 |   |  _The Colony of the Crown_ with Anderson Rosshatch premieres; first vid in the adaptations of Lloyd Wong's Solar Sorcerer series |    
11.3423.027 |   |  _Race, Class, and Hit Points: Transforming Self in Role Playing Games_ by Stephen M. Strange published |    
12.3454.029 |   |  _The House of M: The Fall of Howard Stark's Empire and the Rise of SI Corporation_ by Wanda Maximoff published |    
06.3457.010 |   | Wanda Maximoff publishes _The Great Black Distance_ |    
  |   |   |  


End file.
